Snow Balls
by Marauders2003
Summary: Sequel to Snow Melts: Genevieve has finally got a year to relax, as she’s now able to drop some of her least favorite subjects and focus on her more interesting ones. But with the Triwizard Tournament this year, and Harry’s name coming out of it, this term seems determined to prove it will be anything but relaxing.
1. Chapter 1: Seeing Again

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to lil' ol' me.**

 **LovesParis: I am uploading the chapters as fast as I am writing them, which sometimes takes a while because chapters can be long and complicated, or I'm figuring out a fun way to incorporate my characters. I don't stick to a specific schedule when I upload chapters, which I feel is nice because you can read new ones more often than once a week. Thank you for reviewing, and please don't hesitate to keep giving me comments.**

•~0~•

 _Gen-_

 _Dad got the tickets! So if you can, we're inviting you to come for the Quidditch World Cup (I know you secretly actually enjoy watching Quidditch!) and stay for the remainder of the summer! I've got so much to tell you about Romania that I want to wait to say until I see you in person, and I want to hear about Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid. I'm sure he's a much more interesting teacher than Kettleburn - though, I will admit, he was good too._

 _Best to avoid Percy - he got a job in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and he's become exponentially_ more _insufferable - which I didn't even think was possible! If you can't come, I may just have to kidnap you to save me from his droning speeches! Perce seems to think the idea of a perfect life is spending your days attending to some Ministry official's every whim - ugh! I should hope you aren't planning to join the Ministry anytime soon - I suspect it's awfully boring. Then again, most careers_ would _be awfully boring when compared to studying dragons! I know you want to keep it a secret for now, but I'd really like to know what you told McGonagall for your career consultation._

 _Ron's inviting Harry too, so I'll finally get to meet the famous Harry Potter. The Cup is Monday, but they're going to get Harry on Sunday, and I reckon you could come even sooner. Mum's all worked up about Fred and George's whole joke shop idea - seems to think they're wasting their time. I think some of the stuff they've invented is bloody genius; can you imagine if I'd had their merchandise with me at Hogwarts? It's a wonder they only got three O.W.L.s each. They're even working on something to get you out of class by making you temporarily sick! But then again, as a former Prefect, I_ suppose _I should discourage such behavior._

 _Reply soon!_

 _Love,_

 _Charlie_

She laughed as she scanned the letter, excited. Genevieve had already asked her father, whose only request was that she give him a play-by-play of the game via letter, and sent her response to Charlie immediately. According to his answer, they would come get her through the Floo at noon on Saturday.

She hadn't been able to wipe the stupid grin off her face since. She was going to see Charlie again! The last time she'd seen him in person was when he'd graduated from Hogwarts in her second year, a full four years ago! She supposed the both of them had changed quite a bit since then, but in his letters he was still the same Charlie she'd met on her first day.

Genevieve was already envisioning seeing him again, running into his arms as he gave her a tight hug. She'd realized that she liked him the year before, but of course she wasn't going to act on such silly emotions. Charlie was so much older, and, more importantly, he was her friend. Besides, he lived in Romania, getting to spend each and every day studying dragons, and Genevieve was still a student at Hogwarts.

And though she did entertain the idea of going to Romania for the same reasons, as dragons were also a huge passion of her life, she knew that she wouldn't be ready to go nearly as soon as Charlie had. Maybe someday, but, if permitted, Genevieve was planning to stay at Hogwarts instead of leaving. The school had given so much to her, and she felt a need to pass it on, to give back to the school and the students it taught.

Still, she couldn't seem to shake the thought from her head. _Maybe someday._ She closed her eyes and mentally reread the letter, having already memorized it. Maybe not her and Charlie now, maybe not her and Charlie ever, but for now, just to see him again would be more than enough.

•~0~•

She waited anxiously, trunk already packed and ready to go, in her Weasley jumper, partially because Mrs. Weasley always used blue to match her eyes (a dark, vibrant, almost violet blue), but mostly because of comfort.

Her copy of _Sense and Sensibility_ by a Muggle author named Jane Austen lay on the table next to her, forgotten. Genevieve had always had a fascination with books, and, with her Muggle-born father, she had a rather nice collection of them. But when she'd tried to read while waiting, she found herself, for once, unable to escape into the captivating world of the Dashwood Sisters.

At long last, the dancing flames in her fireplace turned green, and Charlie came out, followed by Fred and George. He jogged over to where Genevieve was sitting, pulled her up, and embraced her tightly. She hugged him back. They probably could have stayed that way for eternity, but then -

"Ahem."

The two pulled apart to see Fred and George smirking back at them, Genevieve's trunk having already been retrieved. It was time to go.

Any other girl would have blushed, but Genevieve wasn't like that. She simply laughed and grabbed a pinch of Floo powder, throwing it in before stepping into the fireplace and shouting, "the Burrow!"

She had her arms tucked in and eyes shut tight, opening them only when she knew it was time to get out. Upon arrival, she was greeted by Mrs. Weasley, who gave her a quick hug before shoving Genevieve into a seat at the table to stuff some food in the girl's mouth.

Genevieve ate her meal with gratitude; in preparation for this morning, she'd completely forgotten breakfast and lunch. Charlie and the rest of the Weasleys (aside from Percy, who'd holed himself up in his room) soon joined her, talking in between bites of their eventful summer.

" - and we made these order forms for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes - you know, the joke shop idea we told you about - but Mum burned them all."

"And I should hope you're not planning on remaking them!" She called over her shoulder, her voice dangerous.

"Definitely not, Mum," Fred assured. "We've learned our lesson." He leaned in, whispering, "We've just finished the Ton-Tongue Toffees, but we need a test subject. We were thinking, perhaps, we could - " His voice was nearly inaudible at this point. " - try it on that Muggle boy Harry has to live with. The one who's on a diet."

Genevieve's eyes widened, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. She'd known about the Ton-Tongue Toffees because she'd actually thought them up back when Fred and George had pulled some prank in the previous year and were being threatened by Filch.

"If only there was something to make him unable to talk," George had said wistfully.

"The only way he'd stop terrorizing kids is if his tongue swelled up and left his mouth unable to move around it," Genevieve had commented.

"That's bloody brilliant!" Fred had exclaimed.

Since then, they'd worked tirelessly to figure out a way to perfect the confections, and Genevieve could hardly wait for the result.

She also noticed an unfamiliar redhead at the table. _Bill._ He was the only Weasley she hadn't met, as she'd never gone to school with him and he was a Curse Breaker in Egypt for Gringotts.

He smiled at her. "You must be the Genevieve I keep hearing about. Prank planning extraordinaire, according to the twins, fellow dragon-lover, according to Charlie, the smartest Hogwarts student in her year, according to Ron, and, according to Percy, the most arrogant and disrespectful girl he's ever met."

She shrugged. "Percy and I never got on well."

Bill grinned. "I can understand and respect that. You're something of a legend around here, the girl who managed 11 O.W.L.s and still had time to hatch schemes with the twins, but never got caught."

"What can I say? I try," Genevieve joked.

After they'd finished eating, Charlie had tugged Genevieve outside for a private chat. He was smiling widely and kept looking at her.

"You've grown so much!" he said, "And you've cut your hair."

She snorted, tugging at her dark brown, slightly wavy hair, which just reached her shoulders. It was, thankfully, the type of hair that she didn't have to put much effort into, and she didn't often think about it.

"Yes, I suppose I have. A lot of things change in four years, you know."

"Like you and animals?"

Genevieve thought back to the frightened first year who'd jump every time she saw Fang, and nodded. It had been Charlie who made it his personal mission to help her overcome her fear of animals, and it had resulted in her signing up for Care of Magical Creatures come third year.

"I did make an Outstanding on my Care of Magical Creatures O.W.L.," she replied, only slightly bragging.

He grinned. "And why should I be surprised? I am speaking to the brightest witch of her age."

"Says the one who gets to wake up everyday and study dragons in _Romania_ ," she teased.

His smile widened, and he launched into stories about the dragons he observed, Genevieve listening intently. In the background, the sun sank into the earth as they sat there, talking and laughing and talking and laughing, and Genevieve having quite possibly the best time she'd had in four years.

•~0~•

"So," Ginny started, eyes twinkling. "I was so excited to see you again, but before I could spend time with you, _some_ older brother of mine stole you away. And you guys were so long getting back, I had to wonder if you were coming back at all!"

Genevieve laughed. They had just gone up to Ginny's room, where she'd be staying. Hermione was also there, having arrived before her.

"And it left me wondering," Ginny pressed on, "just _what_ you were doing out there." She smiled mischievously. "Certainly not _snogging_ , I daresay."

"What? No, that's ridiculous!" Genevieve defended. "We were only talking. We had a lot to catch up on."

"Besides," Hermione cut in, and Genevieve made the foolish mistake that the younger girl on her side. "If she'd be snogging anyone, I'd suspect it to be one of the twins."

Genevieve's face wrinkled in disgust. "Absolutely not! Is this really what you talk about behind my back? Who I'm snogging?"

The three of them burst out laughing.

"Well, you do mount a fair bit of suspicion." Ginny stated simply. "But you'd tell us if you were dating anyone, wouldn't you?"

Genevieve nodded firmly.

"Ah well, I reckon we'll just have to wait and catch her in the act," Ginny said to Hermione.

"I haven't even snogged _anyone_ yet, let alone any of your brothers!" Genevieve exclaimed. "And you're one to talk, seeing as how you turn the shade of your hair every time Harry looks at you."

Ginny blushed.

"She's got a point," Hermione said. "I reckon you should get on with life. Maybe go out with some people, relax a bit around Harry. He might take a bit more notice if you were a bit more yourself."

"I agree." Genevieve said. "This whole squeal-and-run tactic isn't exactly working for you. Just, you know, avoid possessed diaries."

Once again, they laughed. As they each readied to go to sleep, Ginny asked, offhandedly:

"Are you sure you don't like any of my brothers, Genevieve?"

Mysteriously, Genevieve countered, "There's a big difference between like and snogging."

•~0~•

The next day, as they were walking down for breakfast, Ginny pressuring Genevieve to reveal who she liked, Percy stuck his head out of his room.

"Would you be ever so kind as to _keep it down_?" He asked shortly. "I could hardly get any work done last night with your cackling. And I do have important work to do," he added. "For the Ministry."

"Oh yes," Genevieve retorted. Charlie had told her all about his _important work._ "Standardizing cauldron thickness is _such_ a noble cause." She looked around. "Would here be an appropriate place to fall on my knees and kiss your feet, groveling for forgiveness? You do, after all, expect me to worship the ground you stand on, don't you, O Perfect Percy? I can only hope that my interruptions don't cause a 0.1% rise in cauldron leaks. That would simply be _disastrous._ "

He huffed and slammed his door shut again. Ginny and Hermione appeared ready to explode from trying to contain their laughter.

"You really should move in," Ginny said. "I could use someone to put Percy in his place every once in a while."

When they reached the kitchen, Bill stood up to shake her hand, Charlie grinning from behind him. "We heard that from down here," Bill explained. "That was amazing."

•~0~•

"Didn't you tell him five o'clock?" asked Genevieve as they readied to go.

"Yes, but I'm sure it'll be fine," Mr. Weasley replied.

"Did you tell him we were Flooing there?"

"Er - no," Ron said. "I reckon he'll find out soon enough."

Genevieve shrugged, and entered the fireplace just after Mr. Weasley.

"Ouch!" She exclaimed as she bumped into Mr. Weasley. She glanced around. This wasn't right.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Fred, who collided with the both of them. Mr. Weasley spoke.

"Ouch! Fred, no - go back, go back, there's been some kind of mistake - tell George not to - OUCH! George, no, there's no room, go back quickly and tell Ron - "

"Maybe Harry can hear us, Dad - maybe he'll be able to let us out - "

Genevieve, along with the rest of them, began pounding on the wood in front of her.

"Harry! Harry, can you hear us?"

Harry's voice called back. "Mr. Weasley? Can you hear me?"

Everyone ceased their assault on the boards. Genevieve hissed, "Shh!"

"Mr. Weasley, it's Harry . . . the fireplace has been blocked up. You won't be able to get through there."

"Damn!" Mr. Weasley said. "What on earth did they want to block up the fireplace for?"

"They've got an electric fire."

"Really? Eclectic, you say? With a _plug_? Gracious, I must see that . . . Let's think . . . ouch, Ron!"

"What are we doing here? Has something going wrong?"

"Oh no, Ron," Fred piped up. "No, this is exactly where we wanted to end up."

George joined in, despite being pushed up against the boards. "Yeah, we're having the time of our lives here."

"Boys, boys . . . I'm trying to think what to do . . . Yes . . . only way . . . Stand back, Harry."

He raised his wand. Genevieve was slightly alarmed. "Are you sure you want to - "

BANG.

Genevieve was forced forward, chipped bits of fireplace and wood flying everywhere. The Dursleys were shocked, to say the the least.

"That's better," Mr. Weasley wheezed. He spotted the cowering Dursleys. "Ah - you must be Harry's aunt and uncle!"

He tried to shake Mr. Dursley's hand, but the man only backed away more.

"Er - yes - sorry about that," he said awkwardly. "It's all my fault. It just didn't occur to me that we wouldn't be able to get out the other end. I had your fireplace connected to the Floo Network, you see - just for an afternoon, you know, so we could get Harry. Muggle fireplaces aren't supposed to be connected, strictly speaking - but I've got a useful contact at the Floo Regulation Panel and he fixed it for me. I can put it right in a jiffy, though, don't worry. Light a fire to send the boys back, and then I can repair your fireplace before I Disapparate."

If those Muggles understood a bit of what Mr. Weasley had just said, Genevieve was the Minister of Magic. While the twins collected Harry's trunk, still hoping for a glance at Dudley, Mr. Weasley tried to make small talk with the Dursleys.

"Well, very - erm - very nice place you've got here."

"Very . . . clean," Genevieve offered generously, earning her glares from Harry's family. When Mr. Weasley had blown up the fireplace, the room had been drenched in dust and rubble.

Mr. Weasley continued to talk, until finally the twins returned.

"Off you go then, Fred."

"Coming. Oh no - hang on - "

Genevieve fought to hide a smirk as Fred deliberately spilled a bag of Ton-Tongue Toffees, hurrying to pick them up, but making sure to leave one by the coffee table, where Dudley was sure to see it.

One by one, Fred, George, Genevieve, and Ron left behind 4 Privet Drive for the Burrow, where they waited with Bill and Charlie in anticipation of the result the Ton-Tongue Toffee would have. It took a while for Harry to return, which convinced them that he'd be able to inform them of what'd happened.

At long last, Harry stepped out of the fireplace, where Fred practically pounced on him.

"Did he eat it?"

"Yeah. What _was_ it?"

"Ton-Tongue Toffee. George and I invented them, and we've been looking for someone to test them on all summer . . ."

Everyone cracked up. Charlie held out a hand.

"How're you doing, Harry?"

Bill also rose to shake his hand, but, before he could talk to the Boy Who Lived, Mr. Weasley Apparated into the room. He heavily berated the twins, threatening to tell their mother when Mrs. Weasley strode in, looking suspicious.

"Oh hello, Harry, dear," she said warmly. "Tell me _what_ , Arthur?"

Hermione and Ginny peeked into the kitchen, while Mrs. Weasley was getting increasingly frustrated. Hermione came to the rescue.

"Why don't you show Harry where he's sleeping, Ron?"

"He knows where he's sleeping, in my room, he slept there last -"

Hermione cut him off. "We can all go."

"Oh. Right."

As fast as they could, Genevieve and the rest of them fled the kitchen, shooting a grateful look at Hermione. The girl could be a lifesaver.


	2. Chapter 2: Fighting Tables & Broken Legs

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to lil' ol' me.**

 **Once again, the chapter has centered itself rather annoyingly, and I don't know how to fix it. Bear with me here.**

~0~

Per Mrs. Weasley's request, Genevieve had gone out into the garden with a small stack of plates and the intention of setting the table. However, she was soon caught up in a riveting duel between two tables, one controlled by Charlie and the other by Bill, each attempting to knock the other's out of the air. Genevieve cheered wildly, along with the twins, while Ginny laughed, and Hermione was undecided on whether she should enjoy the show or reprove the lot of them. 

Bill's table collided with Charlie's, snapping one of its legs clean off, and Percy, unable to take the noise any longer, leaned out his bedroom window. 

"Will you keep it down?!" he thundered. 

"Sorry, Perce," replied Bill, unabashed. "How're the cauldron bottoms coming on?"

"Very badly," Percy said irritably, closing the window with a bang. 

The two oldest Weasley brothers chuckled, lowered the tables back to the ground, fixed the table leg, and conjured tablecloths to decorate them with. 

At dinner, Genevieve found herself caught up in a discussion about the upcoming Cup with Fred, George, and Charlie. 

"It's got to be Ireland. They flattened Peru in the semifinals," Charlie stated. 

"Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though," argued Fred. 

"It is possible to win the game even if the other team catches the Snitch," Genevieve pointed out. "Besides, Krum's talented, but he can't make up for the entire team. Ireland's just too good."

"Krum's one decent player, Ireland has got seven," Charlie agreed. "I wish England had got through. That was embarrassing, that was."

"What happened?" asked Harry with interest.

"Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten. Shocking performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland was slaughtered by Luxembourg."

They continued in this vein till late in the night, when finally Mrs. Weasley said:

"Look at the time. You really should be in bed, the whole lot of you - you'll be up at the crack of dawn to get to the Cup. Harry, if you leave your school list out, I'll get your things tomorrow in Diagon Alley, I'm getting everyone else's. There might not be time after the World Cup, the match went on for five days last time."

"Wow - hope it does this time!" Harry commented. 

"Well, I certainly don't," Percy said pompously. "I _shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days."_

"Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?" Fred teased. 

Percy replied hotly, "That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway! It was nothing _personal_!"

"It was," Fred whispered to Harry while Genevieve let out a sort of strangled sound from trying not to laugh. "We sent it."

•~0~•

Genevieve heard Mrs. Weasley before she saw her. _Damn,_ she thought, _Already?_ The girls groggily dressed and, with another reminder from Mrs. Weasley, went downstairs. 

"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ginny asked. Genevieve stifled a yawn. 

"We've got a bit of a walk," Mr. Weasley replied. 

"Walk?" Harry sounded startled. "What, are we walking to the World Cup?"

"No, no, that's miles away. We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate that attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup - "

"George!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed suddenly, making Genevieve jump. 

"What?" The boy asked with false innocence. 

"What is that in your pocket?" She asked in a very, _very_ dangerous voice. 

"Nothing!"

"Don't you lie to me! _Accio!"_

More Ton-Tongue Toffees soared out of his pocket, much to Mrs. Weasley's anger. 

"We told you to destroy them! We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!"

She used the Summoning Charm to collectthe rest of them, and they came flying out of some truly creative places, such as the lining of George's jacket, the turn-ups of Fred's jeans, and, to general astonishment, Genevieve's book bag. 

"I told you to leave me out of this!" she scolded. 

Mrs. Weasley trashed the toffees, to which Fred exclaimed furiously, "We spent six months developing those!"

This was a very wrong thing to say. Mrs. Weasley's face reddened in rage as she screeched, "Oh a fine way to spend six months! No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!"

The group left, the twins refusing to speak to their mother, with her saying, "Well, have a lovely time and _behave yourselves_. I'll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy along around midday."

They set off to Stoatshead Hill, where a Portkey was waiting for them, Mr. Weasley explaining to Harry what a Portkey was. Genevieve trudged along, half-asleep and certainly not talkative. 

They reached the top with ten minutes to spare, Genevieve winded from the walk. 

"Now we just need the Portkey," Mr. Weasley told the group. "It won't be big . . . Come on . . ."

Everybody branched out, looking for a small, seemingly useless object. Then a shout rang through the air. 

"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it!"

"Amos!" Mr. Weasley greeted. He introduced the man and his son. "This is Amos Diggory, everyone. He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Of course Genevieve knew Cedric Diggory. He was a seventh year, Seeker and Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and he'd won against Gryffindor in the match last year when Harry had fainted from the dementors, something the twins had never quite forgiven him for. To his credit, when he'd discovered what had transpired, he had called for a rematch, thinking the way he'd won was unfair. 

"Hi," Cedric said, to which they all (excluding Fred and George) replied the same. Mr. Diggory and Mr. Weasley engaged in small talk for a bit before Mr. Diggory asked, "All these yours, Arthur?"

"Oh no, only the redheads," Mr. Weasley said good-naturedly. "This is Genevieve, friend of the twins and Charlie, Hermione, friend of Ron's - and Harry, another friend -"

Mr. Diggory interrupted. "Merlin's beard. Harry? Harry _Potter_?"

"Er - yeah," Harry said awkwardly. 

"Ced's talked about you, of course. Told us all about playing against you last year . . . I said to him, I said - Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will . . . _You beat Harry Potter_!"

It was at that point Genevieve knew she didn't like the man. She clenched her jaw, while the twins glowered at him. 

"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," Cedric said, trying to defend Harry. "I told you . . . it was an accident . . ."

"Yes, but _you_ didn't fall off, did you?" Diggory boasted for him. "Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman . . . but the best man won, I'm sure Harry'd say the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off the broom, one stays on, you don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"

Genevieve could control her tongue no more. "Mr. Diggory, I must ask, are you fully aware of what happened during that match? During the game, the dementors surrounded the Quidditch pitch, unable to resist the emotion and enthusiasm in the air. When dementors are near you, you relive your worst memories, every bad thing that's ever happened to you and nothing good. Personally, I see my mother moments before her death. I think we can all agree that Harry has experienced more trauma than the rest of us combined, that is what he's famous for, after all. So maybe, just maybe, you could muster up some sympathy for the boy who saved the Wizarding World?"

"Must be nearly time," Mr. Weasley interjected, trying to keep the peace, while Diggory stood frozen. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"

"N-no," Diggory stammered. "The Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets. Er - there aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of. Yes, it's in just a few seconds . . . Everybody touch the Portkey, just a finger will do -"

Everyone clambered to get a finger on the manky old boot, somehow managing it before being whisked away. 

She made painful contact with the ground. 

"Ouch!" Genevieve said. Her ankle throbbed. She looked down at it; it was already red from having landed wrong. 

An unfamiliar voice said, "Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill."

Fred, George, Ginny, and Mr. Weasley swarmed her. "Are you okay?" They asked, clearly concerned. Genevieve had a habit of injuring herself doing simple things, thanks to clumsiness. 

"Er - yeah, I think so." Tears stung her eyes, but she pushed them back. "It's probably just sprained."

She tried to get up, but yelped and collapsed to the ground again, a new wave of pain overwhelming her. Hermione knelt down beside Genevieve, examining her ankle, which was now swelling. 

"Ouch!" Genevieve gasped as Hermione felt it. "A little gentler, please?"

"I reckon you've broken it." Hermione said with worry edging her voice. 

"Great."

Mr. Weasley frowned. "I'd rather not try to mend it, Molly's much more adept at it than I am. Let me go find someone - "

"No." Genevieve cut in. "Don't worry about me. I've brought crutches - " she motioned to her bag, which she had put an Extension Charm on her third year to help carry her numerous books around. "In here. I keep them for occasions like this. I can survive a day or two with them. I've used them before, when I was eight and broke my leg during the summer. My dad can't heal anything to save his life either," she joked. 

"Okay," Mr. Weasley said cautiously. "But I want all of you," he looked at the rest of the kids. "to keep an eye on her."

"We will," the twins promised. 

"Merlin, no," said Genevieve. "I'll take my chances with Ginny, thank you very much."

Ginny smiled, helping her to her feet while pulling out the crutches. The man who'd announced their arrival told them where to check in, and off they went, Genevieve moving quite expertly. 

After receiving their location from a dangerously observant Mr. Roberts (who'd promptly had his memory modified by another wizard), Genevieve watched with amusement as Hermione, Harry, and a rather unhelpful, overeager Mr. Weasley struggled to put up the tents, as magic wasn't allowed in big groups like these, near Muggles. 

Once inside the magically Extended tents, they'd set their belongings down. 

"I think I can safely claim the bottom bunk," Genevieve said jokingly. 

Mr. Weasley assigned Ron, Harry, and Hermione to get water while the rest of them ("Not you, Genevieve!") collected firewoood. Genevieve used the time to read, stopping only when the twins returned, and they resumed conversing about Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which they were still determined about. 

Percy interrupted their planning. 

"Just Apparated, Dad," he said importantly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"

"Could he be any louder?" Genevieve muttered to Charlie, who grinned. He glanced at her crutches, which leaned against her chair. 

"What'd you do?" He asked in a teasing yet mildly worried manner. 

"Portkey. Landed wrong," she answered lightly. "Getting injured is my specialty, after all."

"Why didn't you have someone heal it?"

She shrugged. "Didn't want to. I'm fine; this'll be great research for my Muggle Studies class. I can see the report now: 'How Muggles Survive With Broken Bones'. Professor Burbage will be jumping up and down in glee."

He laughed. "Aren't you dropping that class?"

"Oh yeah. Maybe she'll take it in exchange for House points. Merlin knows _someone_ needs to make up for what those two," she pointed to Fred and George, "lose us."

"That's fair," George reasoned. 

They were halfway through lunch when Bagman walked up. 

"Ahoy there!" He greeted, talking a bit with Mr. Weasley. 

Percy almost tripped over himself rushing to shake the man's hand. 

"Careful!" Genevieve warned loudly. "Don't want to break your ankle!" He glared at her. 

"Ah - yes," Mr. Weasley said to Bagman. "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry - and this is Fred - no, George, sorry - _that's_ Fred - Bill, Charlie, Charlie's friend, Genevieve, Ron - my daughter, Ginny - and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.

"Everyone, this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets - "

Bagman waved him off. "Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur? I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first - I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years - and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a week-long match."

Mr. Weasley bet a Galleon on an Ireland victory, but then Fred said:

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."

Percy almost seemed personally offended by his last offer, but even more so when Bagman liked the wand, complimenting its quality. 

Genevieve jabbed Fred, muttering to him, "Do you really want to risk all your savings on a silly bet with a bloke like Bagman?"

Mr. Weasley warned them as well, but Bagman was already writing down names. Bagman and Mr. Weasley continued to talk, Barty Crouch, Percy's boss (whom he idolized), even popping in for a second, though, much to Genevieve's delight, he called Percy "Weatherby." Finally, both Crouch and Bagman Disapparated. 

However, before they did, Bagman mentioned something happening at Hogwarts, though Crouch prevented him from saying anything else about it. The subject piqued Fred's interest, though. 

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad? What were they talking about?"

Mr. Weasley was cheerfully secretive. "You'll find out soon enough."

Percy, on the other hand, sniffed, "It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it. Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."

"Oh shut up, Weatherby," Fred retorted. 

Anticipation rose by the second. A salesman Apparated right in front of where Genevieve was perusing some flags, and she stumbled back into George, who kept her from falling over, though her crutches weren't so lucky. 

"Thanks," Genevieve said sarcastically as the salesman looked sheepishly at her. Fred handed her back the crutches, and the salesman tried to make his pitch. 

"Er - sorry about that, miss. I'll give you a complimentary rosette for the trouble," he offered, brandishing a green rosette. 

She sighed. "Alright. And I'll take two more as well," she added, ignoring the protests of the twins, who hadn't any money left after betting. She paid, handed the gifts to the slightly embarrassed twins, and they continued on their way. "Mind you gits won't be getting anything from me for Christmas," she said to make them feel better. 

Back at the tents, they waited, excitement mounting. Finally, a gong boomed and lanterns the color of both teams ignited, showing a path to the field. 

"It's time!" Mr. Weasley declared. "Come on, let's go!"


	3. Chapter 3: Unlikely Events

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

Somehow, with help from all the Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry, Genevieve made it up to the Top Box for the game. She looked around, ads flashing across a blackboard, the large stadium filling up rapidly, and Harry talking to _a house elf_?

Shaking off the confusion, she continued examining her surroundings, until her eyes settled on a rather amusing show. The Top Box they were in continued to be flooded with high-ranking wizards, and Percy scrambled to his feet so often one would think a hedgehog occupied his seat. Genevieve jabbed the twins, who were sitting near her, and the three of them watched with glee, sniggering when Percy broke his glasses bowing to the Minister.

Soon after, the Malfoys entered the Top Box, and, by some miracle, Genevieve managed to keep her temper in check (she doubted it would be wise to insult guests of the Minister of Magic), even when Mr. Malfoy made derogatory comments to Mr. Weasley.

Ludo Bagman strode in.

"Everyone ready?" he asked excitedly. "Minister - ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo," Fudge replied.

Bagman cast the spell and, with his voice echoing across the stadium, announced, "Ladies and gentlemen . . . welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The huge blackboard that had, seconds before, read _Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans — A Risk With Every Mouthful!_ now proudly displayed **BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.**

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce . . . The Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

"I wonder what they've brought," Mr. Weasley said with interest, perched on the edge of his seat. "Aaah! _Veela!"_

Genevieve watched with half amusement and half disdain as a hundred veela swarmed the field and began dancing. Most of the men around her were captivated, nearly drooling, and, as the veela increased their speed, started attempting crazy stunts, Harry nearly jumping from the Top Box.

As they finished, there were roars of protest. But it didn't last long before Bagman continued.

"And now, kindly put your wands in the air . . . for the Irish National Team Mascot!"

Leprechauns swarmed the field, forming a shamrock from which gold rained.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch team! I give you - Dimitrov!"

Players in red flew onto the field as Bagman introduced them.

"Ivanova! Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaand _\- Krum_! And now, please greet - the Irish National Quidditch Team! Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand - Lynch!"

The Irish team, dressed in green, zoomed onto the field at Bagman's mention.

And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

Mostafa entered the field, mounted his broom, and kicked the crate, releasing the four balls.

"Theeeeeeeey're OFF! And it's Mullet! Troy! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

It was the most impressive game Genevieve had ever seen, though it was rather hard to see it. The Chasers tossed the Quaffle between themselves at such a speed that Bagman could only say their names. Genevieve's head whipped back and forth so much that she went dizzy.

"TROY SCORES! Ten zero to Ireland!"

Ireland's Chasers were incredible. They worked as one unit, scoring twice more in the next ten minutes. The Bulgarian Beaters, though, were ruthless, forcing Ireland to scatter on several occasions. Bulgaria scored.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Ivanova - oh I say!"

The Seekers for both teams plunged to the ground at such an angle that Genevieve wondered if all the players would make it out alive. At the last possible moment, Krum changed direction, but Lynch crashed to the ground with a sickening thud. _He was feinting_ , Genevieve thought.

"It's a time-out!" cried Bagman, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!"

"He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Charlie said comfortingly to Ginny, who was staring after Lynch, wide-eyed. "Which is what Krum was after, of course . . ."

Lynch stood back up after a while, much to the relief of Genevieve and those around her. In just fifteen minutes, Ireland had scored ten more goals. Bulgaria continued to play dirtier.

"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper for cobbing - excessive use of elbows! And - yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"

To distract him from the game, the veela were dancing again, hypnotizing Mostafa, who was showing off his muscles and mustache. Genevieve choked back a laugh.

"Now we can't have that! Somebody slap the referee!"

A mediwizard, careful to keep his own fingers crammed in his ears, marched over to Mostafa and kicked him, bringing the referee back to earth. Mostafa looked furiously at the veela, shouting.

"Unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascot! Now _there's_ something we haven't seen before . . . Oh this could turn nasty . . ."

The Bulgarian Beaters landed next to Mostafa and began arguing with him over the right to keep their mascot. The leprechauns spelled out "HEE, HEE, HEE."

" _Two_ penalties for Ireland! And Volkov and Vulchanov has better get back in those brooms . . . yes . . . there they go . . . And Troy takes the Quaffle . . ."

After several more fouls for Ireland and a broken nose for Krum, Lynch plummeted to the ground, having seen the Snitch. Krum was right behind him, blood gushing from his nose. Once again, Lynch collided with the ground, and countless furious veela charged him.

"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" Charlie yelled.

Harry answered. "He's got it - Krum's got it - it's all over!"

The scoreboard read **BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170** , and it took a second for everything to sink in before chaos broke out.

"IRELAND WINS! KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS - good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

"Two people were," Genevieve muttered.

"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!"

It had taken - and exhausted - two wizards to carry the substantial trophy into the room and to Fudge.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!"

Everyone cheered for the teams; the twins looked particularly pleased as they collected their winnings.

•~0~•

They talked animatedly late into the night, practically reliving the game, only stopping when Ginny fell asleep at the table and Mr. Weasley insisted they all go to bed. Genevieve, Hermione, and Ginny stumbled back to their tent, yawning. She changed into her nightdress and collapsed into bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

"Get up!" She was forced awake by Mr. Weasley's voice, which sounded extremely panicked. "Girls, you've got to get up, hurry!"

They rushed out of the tent, Genevieve just managing to grab her coat, completely forgetting her crutches. What she saw thoroughly disgusted her; men in masks were terrorizing Mr. Roberts and his family.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" yelled Mr. Weasley, Percy, Bill, and Charlie already running off. "You lot - get into the woods and _stick together._ Be careful, watch after Genevieve. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"

"C'mon," urged Fred, and they all followed him into the wood, Genevieve leaning heavily on Ginny. They continued into the woods, only stopping when a snake and skull illuminated the sky, and they all froze. _The Dark Mark._ Genevieve gasped for a break. As they sat down, she noticed something.

"Where're Ron, Harry, and Hermione?" she asked, alarmed. "I haven't seen them in a while."

"No use worrying about them now; they're smart, they'll find their way back," George said, though there was a hint of anxiety in his voice. One of them was his brother, after all. He waited a moment. "I reckon it's safe to head back."

"But - wait," Ginny said. "Dad said he'd come get us. We're supposed to stay put."

"Circumstances have changed, Ginny," Genevieve said gently, motioning to the sky.

"What is that thing?"

Genevieve sighed. "Something that nobody ever wants to see. Something that hasn't been seen for thirteen years . . ."

"The Dark Mark," Fred finished.

Ginny took that as explanation enough, for the moment, and she helped Genevieve to her feet. When they reached the tents again, Bill, Charlie, and Percy were already there. All of them were seemingly injured, Bill with a heavily bleeding arm, Percy with a bloody nose, and Charlie's shirt ripped.

Charlie stood up, strode across the tent, and hugged her tightly.

"Are you okay?" he whispered in her ear, still holding on.

"I'm fine," she assured him, though her voice shook slightly. "I just need my crutches."

He looked her deep in the eye, an unnaturally serious expression on his face, and nodded grimly, leaving and returning with them in hand. She thanked him, and sat down next to Bill at the table.

Fred explained about losing the others in the calamity, and they understood. Suddenly, Charlie stuck his head out of the tent.

"Dad, what's going on? Fred, George, Gen, and Ginny got back okay, but the others -"

"I've got them here," responded Mr. Weasley as he stepped into the tent, Harry, Hermione, and Ron just behind him.

"Did you get them, Dad?" Bill asked. "The person who conjured the Mark?"

"No. We found Barty Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark."

 _"What?"_ said Bill, Charlie, and Percy in unison.

"Harry's wand?" Genevieve and Fred asked incredulously.

 _"Mr. Crouch's elf?"_ Percy was absolutely astonished.

They explained the events in the wood, and Percy insulted the elf for running off. Hermione, for once, argued with him.

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" Ron interjected. "It wasn't hurting anyone . . . Why is it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," Hermione said. "I read about it in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts._ "

"And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years," Mr. Weasley added. "Of course people panicked . . . it was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again."

He explained that the Dark Mark was conjured whenever Death Eaters left someone dead, and the fear that came with it. The Dark Mark had effectively scattered the ones messing with the Robertses, as those Death Eaters had all renounced Voldemort in an effort to stay out of Azkaban.

After a while, Genevieve returned to her bunk, unable to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4: Midnight Blue

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

They left early the next morning, returning to the Burrow as fast as they could, much to the relief of Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness! Arthur - I've been so worried - _so worried -_ "

As she embraced Mr. Weasley, the latest copy of the _Daily Prophet_ fell from her hands. It read: _SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP_ , and had a picture of the Dark Mark for emphasis.

Mrs. Weasley, meanwhile, was now gripping the twins rather tightly.

" _Ouch!_ Mum - you're strangling us -"

"I shouted at you before you left! It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get O.W.L.s? Oh Fred . . . George . . ."

Mr. Weasley comforted his wife, pulling her back inside while instructing Bill to grab the newspaper.

"I knew it," he said with a sigh. " _Ministry blunders . . . culprits not apprehended . . . lax security . . . Dark wizards running unchecked . . . national disgrace . . ._ Who wrote this? Ah . . . of course . . . Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic," Percy ranted hotly. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't _specifically_ stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans -"

Bill interrupted, yawning. "Do is a favor, Perce, and shut up."

Genevieve smirked.

As Mr. Weasley continued to read the article, he found mention of himself (unnamed) in it, Skeeter criticizing the Ministry for not releasing more information and alleging that bodies had been found at the scene.

"Molly, I'm going to have to go into the office; this is going to take some smoothing over."

"I'll come with you, Father," Percy stated with record arrogance. "Mr. Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be _thrilled_ ," Genevieve said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. He glowered at her.

Mrs. Weasley protested, "Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn't got anything to do with your office; surely they can handle this without you?"

"I've got to go, Molly. I've made things worse. I'll just change into my robes and I'll be off . . ."

After asking Mrs. Weasley a question, Harry, along with Ron and Hermione disappeared. Genevieve took the time to ask her to mend her ankle.

"Oh, you poor dear! Having to hobble around in all that mayhem! It's a wonder you didn't get trampled on!" Mrs. Weasley fretted as she healed it.

Moving her slightly stiff ankle, she replied calmly, "I was fine, Mrs. Weasley. Your daughter took good care of me."

Mrs. Weasley simply beamed with pride.

•~0~•

Genevieve took the next week to read through her new books, which Mrs. Weasley had bought for her in Diagon Alley. She also spent a lot of time with Charlie, who told her about all of the dragons he was looking after and what they were like.

"The Hungarian Horntail is vicious. Can shoot fire forty feet, but it's more beautiful than you can imagine; I'll try and send you a sculpture of it for Christmas, but . . ." He smiled mysteriously. "You might get to see it before then."

Her jaw dropped.

"Don't tell Percy I said anything though; it's - "

" 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' " Genevieve completed, in an uncanny impression of Percy.

He laughed.

"Exactly."

•~0~•

One day, Percy was complaining about all the Howlers the Ministry has been getting while Mrs. Weasley anxiously waited for Mr. Weasley to get home. Both of them had been at the Ministry everyday, from early morning to late night.

"Your father hasn't had to go into the office on weekends since the days of You-Know-Who," she said. "They're working him hard too hard. His dinner's going to be ruined if he doesn't come home soon."

Percy, in an effort to sound knowledgeable, said something rather dangerous. "Well, Father feels he's got to make up for his mistake at the match, doesn't he? If truth be told, he was a tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first -"

Mrs. Weasley's reaction was immediate. "Don't you dare blame your father for what that wretched Skeeter woman wrote!"

Genevieve covered a smirk, burying her face in the book in front of her. It wasn't often that Percy got on the wrong side of Mrs. Weasley, after all.

Bill, not looking up from his chess game with Ron, said, "If Dad hadn't said anything, old Rita would have just said it was disgraceful that nobody from the Ministry commented. Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look good. Remember, she interviewed all the Gringotts Charm Breakers once, and called me 'a long-haired pillock'?"

Mrs. Weasley seized the opportunity. "Well, it _is_ a bit long, dear. If you'd just let me -"

" _No_ , Mum."

After a while, Mr. Weasley returned home. And, after another argument between Hermione and Percy, they were sent up to their room to finish packing. As Genevieve unwrapped the parcels, a midnight blue, almost sparkling material fell into her lap. She held it up. _Dress robes._

Mrs. Weasley bustled in, delivering newly cleaned Hogwarts robes. She saw Genevieve with the fabric.

"Oh, do you like them? I thought they'd match your eyes nicely, dear."

"They're amazing. Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

Mrs. Weasley smiled fondly at her, then turned to Ginny and Hermione.

"I've got some for you two as well; they were on the school list this year."

And with that, she left the room, leaving the girls to examine their robes.

"Mine are secondhand, no doubt," Ginny said, surveying hers. "But they're not bad."

"D'you think Ron and Harry know they have to wear dress robes?" Hermione asked curiously.

A door slammed upstairs.

"Yeah, I think so," Genevieve said.

•~0~•

The next morning was the day they left for Hogwarts. Mr. Weasley called goodbye to the girls, having to go into work early for some problem involving dustbins and Mad-Eye Moody, an Auror.

Interestingly, they took Muggle taxis to King's Cross, which was a bit of a struggle, as there were three cabs and ten passengers, each with a massive trunk and some having pets. Genevieve's own Snowflake watched with disdain as others clambered to get inside the taxi. Somehow, they made it to the station mostly unscathed (Crookshanks had scratched Ron, Hermione, and Harry in the chaos), and onto the platform.

Charlie gave her a bone crushing hug.

"Don't go breaking the rest of your bones," he warned her.

"No promises," she replied, eyes dancing.

As he hugged Ginny, he said, "I might be seeing you all sooner than you think."

"Why?" Fred pressured, eager to know what huge secret was happening at Hogwarts.

"You'll see. Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it . . ." He glanced at Genevieve. "It's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."

"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," Bill said, staring at the train longingly.

 _"Why?"_ George asked, irritated.

"You're going to have an interesting year. I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it . . ."

"A bit of _what_?" Ron was asking this time.

"Thanks for having us stay, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, Genevieve nodding behind her.

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley."

With a few more mysterious comments, and one last hug from Charlie, the train departed.


	5. Chapter 5: Reasonably Unforgivable

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Fred, George, and Genevieve made their way to their usual compartment, the twins grumbling about nobody telling them anything. Lee and Katie were already waiting for them. Genevieve slid into the seat next to Katie, who was already immersed in her books for the year.

"Excited for O.W.L. year?" Genevieve teased.

Katie scowled. "Don't remind me."

She laughed. "Don't worry; as long as you study, they're really not bad, and you only have to make an E on most of them to proceed to N.E.W.T. level anyway. Except for Potions, of course."

Everyone in the compartment made a face.

"I'm so glad we got to drop Snape this year," Fred said, George and Lee nodding enthusiastically behind him.

"And with all our free time, we can work on the joke shop. We're developing treats to help you skive off class, but we need a name."

There was silence for a moment as everyone concentrated.

"Are there going to be different types?" Lee asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, lots of sicknesses can help you get out of class. Fainting . . ."

"Nosebleeds . . ." Genevieve contributed.

"Fever . . ." Katie said without looking up from her book.

"That's brilliant!" George said. "We can have several different types. We've been focusing mostly on puking, but if we have a variety, we can call them Skiving Snackboxes!"

"Fainting Fancies," Lee provided.

"Nosebleed Nougat," Genevieve offered.

"Fever Fudge." Katie had set down her book now and was looking excited.

"And Puking Pastilles!" Fred exclaimed.

"This could actually work," Katie said. "But I'm going to be expecting some free merchandise once you've perfected them."

"Details, details," George said, waving her off.

They laughed.

•~0~•

After they had ridden the carriages back to Hogwarts (Genevieve always tried not to look at the thestrals), the Sorting finished, and the feast eaten (though Hermione, who had recent discovered the "terrible injustices that befell house elves", refused to partake in the feast), Dumbledore gave a speech.

The first part of the speech most always involved reminding the students of the banned and newly banned objects, as well as the fact that the Forbidden Forest was, true to its name, forbidden.

Dumbledore continued. "It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

The twins were too horrified to form words at this development, and Genevieve frowned in confusion.

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up most of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"

Dumbledore was cut off by a beyond loud roar of thunder, and BANG. The doors of the Great Hall slammed open. A man in a black cloak was standing in the doorway, supported by a long staff.

He began to walk up to the staff table, a _clunky_ soundingwith every other step. He walked straight up to Dumbledore, and, for the first time, lightning illuminated his face.

He had the most unusual face Genevieve had ever seen, scarred, with part of his nose missing, and one of his eyes was large and electric blue, in constant motion, as though trying to detect the slightest amount of suspicion in the air around it.

 _He_ can't _be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher,_ Genevieve thought. _Can he?_ The man sat down at the teachers' table, and Dumbledore addressed the students once more.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody."

Dumbledore and Hagrid were the only ones in the entire hall to clap for the new professor, everyone else too shocked to register what was happening. Genevieve remembered the name of the man Mr. Weasley had gone to help that morning: a man named Mad-Eye Moody. This must be the accomplished ex-Auror who had captured half the Dark wizards in Azkaban. But why was he teaching?

Dumbledore pressed on. "As I was saying, we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" exclaimed Fred in astonishment.

The atmosphere calmed significantly with this outburst, most of the hall, including Dumbledore himself, laughing.

"I am _not_ joking, Mr. Weasley, though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun all go into a bar . . ."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, stopping Dumbledore before he got too off task.

"Er - but maybe this is not the time . . . no . . . where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament . . . well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so hope those who _do_ know will forgive me giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament, none of which have been very successful. However, our own Department of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" Fred whispered excitedly. Genevieve knew the money would really help the twins with their joke shop.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts, the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion. I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."

This had caused an outcry from the twins, who still seemed determined to find a way into the competition. Genevieve kept silent, knowing that she would turn seventeen just a short while before Halloween, when the names were submitted.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Genevieve stood up, ready to leave for the common room for a bit of last minute studying.

"They can't do that!" protested George furiously. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

Fred looked mutinous. "They're not stopping me entering. The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

"Yeah," Ron said dreamily. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons . . ."

"Come on," urged Hermione. "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."

They left the Great Hall, Fred and George discussing how Dumbledore night try to keep them out of the tournament and how to fool the impartial judge.

•~0~•

That morning, Genevieve cleared her schedule with McGonagall and immediately set off for her first period, Study of Ancient Runes, a subject she'd always found fascinating. When she returned to the common room at the end of the day, exhausted, the twins smirked at her.

"Tired?"

"You _have_ been running around all day."

"And we've been here - "

"Relaxing."

She smacked each of them. "Shut it."

"It's amazing how free your schedule is when you only have three classes."

"Well, not everyone has the incredibly ambitious dream of opening a joke shop."

"What _do_ you want to do, then?"

She grinned unreadably. "It's a secret."

•~0~•

Genevieve sat in Professor Moody's class rather nervously. She could usually tell a teacher's teaching methods by the way they acted outside of class, but Moody was unpredictable. She had no clue what this would be like.

Other students filed into the class, looking equally wary. Everyone took out their copies of _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ , and waited anxiously for class to begin.

Genevieve heard the ever familiar _clunk_ of Moody's artificial leg and straightened up in her seat subconsciously. He limped to his desk and turned to the students.

"You can put those away," he said in a low, growling voice. "those books. You won't need them."

Genevieve carefully replaced her book in her bag, while the twins looked excited. Moody, meanwhile, was using his magical eye to bore into each student as he called roll, as though he were reading their minds.

"Right then. I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. It seems to me that you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures. But you're behind - extremely behind - on dealing with curses."

Genevieve had to agree, the majority of her teachers in this subject up until Lupin had been more or less useless, and Lupin himself had focused on creatures as opposed to curses.

"So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark curses, so - straight into it."

Nobody dared interrupt him.

"Curses. They come in many strenghths and forms. Now, this is the year that the Ministry of Magic deems you old enough to deal with what illegal Dark curses look like. A wizard who is about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he is about to do. He is not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to dispose of your gum properly, Mr. Jordan."

Everyone's eyes darted to Lee, who had tried to, inconspicuously, leave his gum on the underside of his desk. Lee looked up sheepishly and hurried to throw his gum away. Genevieve noticed that Moody had been facing away from the class when he said this, however. Apparently, his eye could see through the back of his head. _Not alarming at all._

"So . . . who knows what the three Unforgivable Curses are?"

George raised his hand.

"Isn't one of them the Imperius Curse?"

"Ah, yes. Weasley, is it? Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago. He _would_ know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."

Moody withdrew a jar containing three spiders from his desk. He took out one of them, pointed his wand at it, and said, _"Imperio!"_

The spider began doing a number of crazy stunts, making the students laugh. Genevieve, however, was horrified. She'd read about it, but this was so much worse than she'd ever imagined. With a single word, free will was nothing but a concept. Moody had the same reaction.

"Think it's funny, do you? You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

It was as though someone muted the room. Everyone fell silent again at once.

"Total control," Moody whispered. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats . . .

"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse. Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.

"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

The class flinched. Moody returned the spider to its jar.

"Another one?" He asked.

Angelina Johnson, whom Genevieve knew to be a close friend of Katie's through Quidditch, raised her hand, albeit reluctantly.

"Yes?"

"The Cruciatus Curse."

Moody nodded. "The Cruciatus Curse. Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea."

He enlarged the spider.

 _"Crucio!"_

The result was immediate. The spider instantly began writhing in pain, twitching, rocking itself. It couldn't scream, but there was no doubt in Genevieve's mind that it would if it could. Slowly, every person in the class closed their eyes, unable to watch, and Moody stopped. He returned the spider to its normal size, and placed it back in the jar. When he spoke again, his voice was even softer.

"Pain. You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse . . . That one was very popular once too."

There was a moment's silence.

"Right . . . and the last one?"

She didn't dare raise her hand, though Moody stared right at her.

"Well?"

Genevieve shrunk down in her seat. Moody, though, said, "Snow?"

She gulped. "The _Avada Kedavra_ ," she said, barely audible.

He smiled ever so slightly. "Yes, the last and worst. _Avada Kedavra . . ._ the Killing Curse."

The spider attempted desperately to escape its fate, to no avail. Moody set it on the desk, and bellowed:

 _"Avada Kedavra!"_

With a flash of green light, the spider rolled over, dead. Genevieve closed her eyes tight. Her mother . . . Her father had told her that her mother had been found dead. She'd been killed by the curse that was impossible to survive.

Moody was talking. "Not nice. Not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and you all know his name."

 _Harry Potter._ Genevieve put her head down on her desk. _Harry Potter. Not Allie Snow. Her mother wasn't so lucky._

Moody was still teaching. She forced herself to focus on the lesson again.

" _Avada Kedavra_ 's a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it - you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as the nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it.

"Now, it there's no countercurse, why am I showing you? _Because you've got to know._ You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared again, and the whole class jumped.

"Now . . . those three curses make up the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice _constant, never-ceasing vigilance._ Get out your quills . . . copy this down . . ."

The rest of the class period was spent taking notes on Unforgivable Curses. When the bell rang, Genevieve rushed out of class, straight to the Great Hall for dinner, stopping only when Fred, George, and Lee caught up with her.

"Didn't you see what happened?" George asked.

"Malfoy tried to curse Harry, but Moody Transfigured him - into a ferret! Moody was bouncing him up and down and up and down and up and down - "

"I reckon he only stopped because McGonagall got onto him!"

Their faces were absolutely alight with glee. Not wanting to upset them, Genevieve mustered up a smile. They went to sit by Harry and Ron.

"Moody!" Fred said. "How cool is he?"

"Beyond cool," George answered.

"Supercool," Lee added. "We had him this afternoon."

They looked at Genevieve. "Um, yeah, incredibly . . . cool."

Harry pounced on the opportunity. "What was it like?"

They all glanced at each other.

"Never had a lesson like it."

"He _knows_ , man."

"Knows what?" Ron asked enthusiastically.

"Knows what it's like to be out there _doing_ it."

"Doing what?"

"Fighting the Dark Arts."

"He's seen it all."

" 'Mazing."

Ron made a rather spectacular dive for his schedule. "We haven't got him till Thursday," he groaned.

•~0~•

The twins and Lee caught up with Genevieve later, when she was studying, or trying to, in the common room. They marched up to her.

"Okay," George said firmly.

"What's going on?" Fred's tone almost matched his mother's. It was more than a little frightening.

"You darted after Moody's class, and you've been distracted since," Lee said.

She bit her lip.

"Well, it's just . . . you all know that my mum's dead," Genevieve started.

They all nodded.

"But I don't think I've ever told you how. She was an Auror, and one day, when she was coming back from an important meeting, with me, she was attacked. Death Eaters. She managed to escape with me, make sure I was with my dad, safe, but she couldn't leave innocent people to get hurt. So she went back. She fought them.

"They found her body the next day. That's pretty much all my dad told me. But you know me, I've read the reports, I've used common sense. She was killed by a curse that leaves no mark, a curse that only one person has ever survived."

"Harry," Fred provided. She nodded.

"And, just, when Moody demonstrated, I _saw_ it. Two words, and they're dead, and everyone around them is left to pick up the shell, the bare bones of what's left. That curse is the reason I never knew my mother, and it's just been bothering me, I guess."

They all pulled her into a hug.

"Your mother was a hero, through and through." Lee said comfortingly.

"And without her sacrifice, we would've never known you," George continued.

"And then who would help us hatch schemes, plan pranks? Without you . . . we might've actually _behaved._ " Fred shuddered.

She laughed.

"I wouldn't go that far," she said. "But thanks."

•~0~•

 **A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FRED AND GEORGE!**


	6. Chapter 6: The SPEWings of Black

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Genevieve had been severely wrong when she'd assumed she'd have more free time this year. Despite having _less_ classes, N.E.W.T. students had to do much _more_ work than before. They were now expected to use non-verbal spells, on top of Moody's often extreme lessons, on top of Snape's teachings, which had now reached an entirely new level of harsh.

She typically spent a bare minimum of four hours a day on coursework outside of class, often staying up late in the common room. Today she sat near Ron and Harry, who were having frustrating progress on their Divination assignment.

Harry set his quill down. "I haven't got a clue what this lot's supposed to mean."

"You know," Ron started. "I think it's back to the old Divination standby."

"What - make it up?"

"Yeah," Ron cleared the table of his previous writings and began again. "Next Monday, I am likely to develop a cough, owing to the unlucky conjunction of Mars and Jupiter."

Genevieve laughed. "You mean, she'll actually believe this rubbish?"

"Yeah," Ron said confidently. "Just put in loads of misery, she'll lap it up."

Harry went along with it. "Okay . . . on Monday, _I_ will be in danger of - er - burns."

"Yeah, you will be," Ron muttered, "we're seeing the skrewts again in Monday."

"Oh come on," Genevieve said. "They're ugly and useless, yes, but they're not bad. You lot dealt with a bloody dragon your _first_ year!"

"Yeah, and I wasn't keen on seeing anything like it again," Ron said. "Anyway - Tuesday, _I'll . . ._ erm . ."

"Lose a treasured possession," Harry provided, flipping through his textbook not for research, but for ideas."

Ron jotted it down. "Good one. Because of . . . erm . . . Mercury. Why don't you get stabbed in the back by someone you thought was a friend?"

"Yeah . . . cool . . . because . . . Venus is in the twelfth house."

Genevieve snorted, returning to her own work, but keeping an ear out for the more creative ones. It would certainly help their assignment if a few of them were to come true . . .

Fred and George, meanwhile, were in a corner of the room, writing secretively on a piece of parchment. Genevieve frowned. This was odd behavior, especially for them. She made a mental note to ask them later.

After everyone else had gone to bed, and it was just Genevieve, Harry, and Ron left, Hermione entered, carrying a box and a bit of parchment. The girl had been spending quite a bit of time in the library lately.

"Hello, I've just finished!"

"So have I!" Ron said with triumph as he set down his quill. Hermione read his predictions.

"Not going to have a very good month, are you?"

"Ah well, at least I'm forewarned."

"You seem to be drowning twice," she noted.

"Oh am I?"

"Change it to getting trampled by a rampaging hippogriff," Genevieve suggested, thinking fondly of Buckbeak.

"Nice one," he said.

"Don't you think it's a bit obvious you've made these up?" Hermione questioned.

"How dare you!" Ron feigned offense. "We've been working like house-elves here!"

She gave him a look.

"It's just an expression."

"What's in the box?" Harry asked.

"Funny you should ask."

She showed them all the contents. It contained roughly fifty badges of varying colors, and "S.P.E.W." was on each of them.

" 'Spew'?" Harry was confused. "What's this about?"

"Not _spew_ ," Hermione snapped. "It's S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Never heard of it," Ron said.

"Well, of course you haven't," she replied smoothly. "I've only just started it."

"Yeah? How many members have you got?"

"Well - if you three join - four."

"And you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying 'spew', do you?"

"S-P-E-W!" Hermione was getting impatient. "I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status – but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our manifesto. I've been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now."

"Hermione - open your ears," Ron said, exasperated. "They. Like. It. They _like_ being enslaved!"

"Our short-term aims," Hermione continued, ignoring him, "are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented."

"And how do we do all this?" Harry asked, giving up.

"We start by recruiting numbers. I thought two Sickles to join – that buys a badge – and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. You're treasurer, Ron – I've got you a collecting tin upstairs – and Harry, you're secretary, so you might want to write down everything I'm saying now, as a record of our first meeting. Genevieve – I've decided to make you vice-president, so we need to collaborate often - "

Genevieve held up her hand. "Hermione - I'm sorry, but I'm not going to join. I've seen house-elves, and they've always been perfectly happy the way they were. They don't care about rights and money and vacations. They're happy just to serve wizards, and, so long as wizards treat them right, I say we leave them be."

"Hmph!" Hermione said hotly. "Maybe they're happy because they just don't know any better!"

Genevieve started to reply, but was interrupted by a tapping on the window. Hedwig, Harry's owl, was trying to deliver a letter.

"Hedwig!" He exclaimed, rushing to open the window and let her in. She landed on their homework table. "About time!"

"She's got an answer!"

"Yeah, that _is_ typically how owl post goes. Why are you so ex - unless . . . it's Sirius?"

They nodded.

"I sent him a letter a while back, and we've been waiting for a response ever since," Harry explained.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked, S.P.E.W. completely forgotten.

Harry read to all of them:

 _Harry -_

 _I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore - they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else's._

 _I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron, Hermione and Genevieve. Tell her I'm taking good care of Buckbeak. Keep your eyes open, Harry._

 _Sirius_

"What news about your scar?" Genevieve asked worriedly. "What could be so important that he's coming _back_?"

Harry groaned. "My scar hurt over the summer, and I had a dream about Voldemort and Wormtail planning to kill . . . someone. The last time my scar hurt, Voldemort was near me."

Ron focused on another part of the letter. "Dumbledore's reading what signs? Harry - what's up?"

He said this last part because, quite like an insane man, Harry had just hit his fist against his forehead with enough force that Hedwig flew out of his lap.

"I shouldn't've told him!" Harry berated himself.

"What are you on about?"

"It's made him think he's got to come back!" Harry slammed his fist on the table. Genevieve jumped. "Coming back, because he thinks I'm in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with me! And I haven't got anything for you," he said sharply to Hedwig, "you'll have to go up to the Owlery if you want food."

Hedwig was extremely indignant at this, flying noisily out the window.

"Harry," Hermione said soothingly.

"I'm going to bed," he said. "See you in the morning."

And he marched straight out of sight. Genevieve sighed. "At least Buckbeak's well."


	7. Chapter 7: Of Age

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

On the morning of October 17, Genevieve woke up quite like she normally did, got ready for the day quite like she normally did, and walked into the common room on the way to the Great Hall for breakfast, just as she normally did. She wasn't expecting, however, to be ambushed upon her arrival in the common room.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" the twins, Lee, and Katie shouted, causing her to stumble back, trip, and twist her other ankle.

In the hospital wing, as all of this was still happening before the beginning of school, they crowded around her.

"Er - sorry about that," George said.

"We didn't think you'd be _that_ surprised," said Fred.

"You _didn't_ think I'd be surprised to have a horde of people jump out and scream at me?" Genevieve asked doubtfully. "Why'd you do anything this year anyway?"

Genevieve didn't usually celebrate her birthdays; she didn't see the point. "It's just another day, another year that I've lived life, what's the big deal?" she'd always said.

They looked at her as though she'd sprouted two heads.

"You're of age now!" Lee stated as though it were obvious.

"An adult wizard," Katie said. "You can use magic whenever you like now . . ."

" _And_ you can enter in the Triwizard Tournament," George said enthusiastically.

Genevieve snorted. "I just twisted my ankle walking to the Great Hall; what makes you think I'm not going to kill myself in the tournament anyway?"

"Fair point," Fred agreed.

Just then, Madam Pomfrey strode up, muttering about irresponsible teenagers and their carelessness, cleared Genevieve to go, and shooed them off to class.

•~0~•

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Moody was taking a rather _illegal_ approach to helping the students fight the Imperius Curse. He announced that he'd be placing each of them under the curse to truly show them how powerful it was and to see if they could resist it.

Genevieve learned, to great amusement, that Lee could sing nursery rhymes brilliantly. Alicia Spinnet did quite a bit of exercise, jumping from desk to desk. Fred made himself extremely dizzy, spinning like a tornado across the room.

Finally, Moody growled, "Snow. Come up here."

With anxiety reminiscent of being Sorted, Genevieve walked into the cleared space. Moody pointed his wand at her and muttered, _"Imperio!"_

Immediately, she felt every worry, every fear, every thought wash away as though it'd never been there at all. It was probably the most relaxed she'd been in her entire life.

Moody's voice, echoing inside her head, instructed: _Hop around the room . . . hop around the room . . ._

Genevieve crouched down, getting ready.

 _Hop around the room . . ._

But wait. A voice in her head spoke up out of nowhere. Why should I? I'm not a bunny.

 _Hop around the room . . ._

I think I'd rather not, the voice said. I'd really prefer not to . . . Yeah, it said with a little more conviction . . . I'm not going to do it . . .

 _Hop! NOW!_

The next thing Genevieve knew, she was sprawled out on the floor, one hand wrapped tightly around the other, which was pulsing with pain. One glance down told her a finger was bent in a way it really, _really_ shouldn't. She'd crouched so long, voices fighting in her head, that when, she'd at last attempted to hop, all that happened was that she shot forward into the ground in front of her.

"Now, _that's_ more like it!" Moody said excitedly. "Snow put up one hell of a fight! Very good, Snow!"

"Er - sir?" She asked, unable to stand it any longer. She held up her finger, which was now purple. "May I go to the hospital wing?"

"Yeah, yeah," he said distractedly. "But be ready to learn how to throw it off when you get back!"

Madam Pomfrey simply shook her head, ushering her in. "Good birthday you're having, is it?"

•~0~•

An announcement was posted in the entrance hall, reading:

 **TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT**

THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY —

STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.

This reignited conversations about the Triwizard Tournament and, for Fred, George, and Lee, how to enter underage. It all depended on the impartial judge, and they would have to tweak their methods according on who, or what, it was.

In Transfiguration, George even had the nerve to ask McGonagall.

"Professor?" he asked innocently. "How are the champions for the tournament chosen?"

"If I were you, Weasley, I'd shut up and get on with Transfiguring your raccoon. Look at Genevieve - she's already finished."

The morning the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students were set to arrive, Genevieve, George, and Fred were huddled away from the rest of the Gryffindor table, talking quietly. They'd finally filled her in on the fact that Bagman had paid them for the bet with leprechaun gold, which, of course, disappears, and were trying to figure out a way to get their money from him.

"It's a bummer, all right," George said. "But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it in his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

"Who's avoiding you?" Ron asked, sitting down in the middle of their conversation.

"Wish you were," Fred retorted.

"What's a bummer?"

"Having a nosy git like you for a brother," George answered.

They spent a while speculating about the Triwizard Tournament, which Genevieve paid no mind to, before Hermione said, rather loudly:

 _"House-elves!_ Not once, in over a thousand pages, does _Hogwarts, A History_ mention that we are all colluding in the oppression of a hundred slaves!"

Genevieve shook her head. The twins had also refused to buy a badge, though Hermione had intimidated some people into joining.

George tried to reason with her. "Listen, have you ever been down in the kitchens, Hermione?"

"No, of course not. I hardly think students are supposed to - "

"Well, we have," he gestured to himself, Fred, and Genevieve, who waved sheepishly, "loads of times, to nick food. And we've met them, and they're _happy_. They think they've got the best job in the world - "

"That's because they're uneducated and brainwashed!"

Luckily, at that moment, the owls swooped in to deliver letters, cutting her off. Harry beckoned Genevieve over to them, and whispered out a letter from Sirius.

 _Nice try, Harry._

 _I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar._

 _Sirius_

"What'd you do?" Genevieve asked.

"He tried to convince Sirius that his scar never hurt, and he'd just imagined it," Hermione said.

"That was stupid."

Ron decided to change the subject. "Why d'you have to keep changing owls?"

"Because Hedwig will attract too much attention," Genevieve said.

Hermione explained. "She stands out. A snowy owl that keeps returning to wherever he's hiding. . . I mean, they're not native birds, are they?"

Hedwig, meanwhile, flew back to the Owlery, exhausted from the several long trips she'd taken with little rest in between.

•~0~•

Genevieve sat outside for Care of Magical Creatures, quite possibly the only student paying attention, as many were distracted by the imminent arrival of student from other schools.

Hagrid grinned at them all.

"I've decided ter give yeh a break from Blast-Ended Skrewts fer today," he said. "Just follow me . . ."

He led them into the Forbidden Forest, what looked to be half a dead cow over his shoulder. "Righ'," he said. "Thought we'd go an' see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train 'em. Let's go . . ."

They walked for about ten more minutes before they reached a part of the forest where it was next to impossible to see; the trees were so thick nearly no light could get through.

"Gather roun', gather roun'. Now, they'll be attracted by the smell o' the meat but I'm goin' ter give 'em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me . . ."

He tilted his head back and gave an odd sounding, shrieking sort of cry, then repeated it. Then, white, blank, shining eyes peeked through the trees, and the rest of the body followed, black, winged, and skeletal. Genevieve gave a shudder. _Thestrals._

They began to eat the meat, which Hagrid had flung on the ground before calling them. She looked around; the majority of the class was still searching. They couldn't see them.

"Oh, an' here comes another one!" Hagrid exclaimed. "Now . . . put yer hands up, who can see 'em?"

Genevieve and one other boy, a Slytherin, raised their hands. Everyone else stared blankly, confused.

"Yes, Genevieve, yeh told me abou' yer grandfather, and -"

He was interrupted by another Slytherin, who was giving Hagrid a skeptical expression.

"Excuse me, what are we supposed to be seeing?"

Hagrid pointed at the meat, which was nearly gone; the thestrals were ripping the remains into pieces and eating them. Several people gasped in shock. All they could see were bits of cow disappearing into thin air.

"What's doing it?" Angelina asked.

"Thestrals," Hagrid replied, a hint of pride in his voice. Hogwarts has got a whole herd of 'em in here. They're dead clever an' useful, too. Mainly, they jus' pull the Hogwarts carriages, though.

"Now, who can tell me why some o' yeh can see 'em an' some can't?"

Genevieve raised her hand. "The only people who can see thestrals are people who've seen death."

"Yeh're exactly righ'," Hagrid said, a serious look on his face. "Ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, these thestrals started out as just a male an' five females. This one," he patted one of the thestrals, "name o' Tenebrus, he's my special favorite, firs' one born here in the forest. They also have 'mazin senses o' direction, jus' tell 'em where yeh want ter go.

"Right, well, we have a bit o' extra time, and this lot seems gentle today, so I reckon yeh could come up an' pat 'em. Genevieve, since yeh can see 'em, why don' yeh go firs'?"

Tentatively, Genevieve walked up to one of the thestrals. She patted its shining neck, and it lowered its head gently. It was rather beautiful, up close. _Thestrals_ , she decided, _weren't so bad after all._

•~0~•

Half an hour later, Genevieve stood rigid in a line, where a slightly tense Professor McGonagall admonished some students for their appearance.

"Follow me, please," she said. "First years in the front . . . no pushing . . ."

They moved their lines carefully in front of the castle.

"I wonder how they're coming," Genevieve said offhandedly to the twins.

"Aha!" Dumbledore proclaimed from where he stood with the other teachers. "Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

"Where?" Students asked curiously.

 _"There!"_ shouted a student in her row.

Something, Genevieve couldn't tell what, was soaring in the air toward them. As it got closer, she saw that it was a huge, blue, horse-drawn carriage, pulled by a dozen of the largest winged horses she'd ever seen.

It landed. Out of it stepped the largest _woman_ Genevieve had ever seen, roughly the same size as Hagrid. Dumbledore, followed by the students, clapped. She walked up to him.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said, kissing her hand. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," the woman greeted warmly. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you."

"My pupils." She gestured to the small group of students behind her, all about Genevieve's age.

" 'As Karkaroff arrived yet?"

"He should be here any moment. Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think. But ze 'orses - "

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."

Genevieve smiled slightly. Hagrid had muttered something to her earlier about the skrewts giving him a bit of trouble.

"My steeds require - er - forceful 'andling. Zey are very strong . . ."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job."

"Very well. Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to."

"Come," Madame Maxime beckoned her students.

Now they waited for Durmstrang to arrive. Suddenly, Lee shouted, "The lake! Look at the lake!"

Out of nowhere, a whirlpool had formed in the lake, and a ship rose out of it. Somebody threw an anchor down, and a plank was placed going from the ship to the bank. Large, burly students, wearing cloaks of fur, climbed off. Another man, with fur matching his hair, called out to Dumbledore.

"How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff."

The man looked up at the castle, smiling insincerely. "Dear old Hogwarts. How good it is to be here, how good . . . Viktor, come along, into the warmth . . . you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold . . ."

Genevieve gaped as one of the students stepped forward. "Is that - "

"It can't be," breathed George.

"Viktor Krum!" Fred said.

As they went back inside, the group was still voicing disbelief that one of the most famous Quidditch players in existence was _at Hogwarts._ The Beauxbatons students were sitting at the Ravenclaw table, while Durmstrang occupied the Slytherin table. Dumbledore gave a short speech.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests. I have great pleasure in welcoming you all the Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable. The tournament will be officially open at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

As she ate, Genevieve looked around. The Beauxbatons students seemed to turn their noses up at Hogwarts, while Durmstrang was marveling at the castle. Suddenly, Genevieve elbowed the twins.

"You've got an opportunity."

They looked over at the staff table; Bagman and Crouch had just sat down. Dumbledore stood back up as the students finished eating.

"The moment has come. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation And Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

There was applause, though admittedly much more for Bagman than Crouch, although Genevieve and the twins didn't extend him that courtesy.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts. The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch brought out a large ancient wooden chest decorated with jewels.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways . . . Their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger. As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform in each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore rapped three times with his wand on the casket. It opened. He pulled out a large wooden cup full of blue-white flames.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put your names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line."

Fred and George exchanged smirks.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

"An Age Line!" Fred scoffed as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing - it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"

"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," Hermione said, "we just haven't learned enough . . ."

"Speak for yourself," George retorted. "You'll try to get in, won't you, Harry?"

The younger boy didn't reply.

"I certainly don't recommend it," Genevieve commented. "And I wouldn't be so sure an Aging Potion is enough to fool a line drawn by _Dumbledore_ himself. He's the greatest wizard alive."

The twins shrugged. "What've we got to lose?"

•~0~•

"Are you sure you want to try this?" Genevieve asked warily.

Fred, George, and Lee looked at each other, then each put a drop in their mouth. She shook her head, but stepped out of the way and allowed them to scurry over to Ron, Hermione, and Genevieve.

"Done it," Fred told them. "Just taken it."

"What?" Ron asked.

"The Aging Potion, dung brains."

"One drop each. We only need to be a few months older," George said.

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," Lee was positively beaming.

"I'm not sure this is going to work, you know," Hermione cautioned. "I'm sure Dumbledore would have thought of this."

""That's what I said," Genevieve sighed, exasperated, standing beside the three fourth years. Fred, George, and Lee ignored the both of them.

"Ready?" Fred asked the other two. "C'mon, then - I'll go first - "

Everybody watched with bated breath as he walked over to the line . . . and stepped across it. George crossed after him. It looked for a moment as though it had worked, but then the two were ejected back, and sprouted _beards._

"I tried," Genevieve said, raising her hands up in surrender and laughing. "Honestly, I can't decide if they look better that way."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione laughed.

Dumbledore looked very amused. "I did warn you. I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards is anything like as fine as yours."

They departed with a choking-on-laughter Lee, and Genevieve only hesitated slightly before going in to breakfast with Ron, Harry, and Hermione.

"Food is more important than their idiocy," she decided.

She sat down near Katie, just in time to see Angelina coming back in.

"Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!"

"Oh I hope it's her," Genevieve said to Katie.

Katie looked at her in surprise.

"What? Just because we're not close doesn't mean I don't want a Gryffindor champion. Besides," she admitted. "I suppose she's alright."

Katie laughed.

•~0~•

They ate in anticipation, speculating about who the Hogwarts champion would be. As they finished eating, Dumbledore rose.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber where they will be receiving the first instructions."

With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore extinguished all the candles except for the ones inside the carved pumpkins. Everyone's eyes were on the goblet.

"Any second," Lee whispered.

As though in cue, the goblet's flames turned red and spit out a slightly burnt piece of parchment, which Dumbledore caught.

"The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum."

The Hall was consumed in applause as Krum stood up and walked into the chamber.

The flames changed color yet again and out flew another bit of parchment.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"

Fleur walked into the chamber. All they were waiting on now was the Hogwarts champion.

Finally, its flames turned red once more and out came the last piece. Genevieve didn't breathe.

"The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!"

The Hufflepuff table was a sea of clapping hands as Cedric joined the other champions.

"Excellent! Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count about all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champions on, you will contribute in a very real - "

They never heard the end of that sentence, for as he was speaking, the goblet turned red again and shot out _another_ name.

Silence. Then . . .

 _"Harry Potter."_


	8. Chapter 8: Awake a Sleeping Dragon

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Genevieve couldn't talk. She moved her mouth in disbelief, but no words came out. Harry looked just as baffled. The silence was deafening; no one had applauded this time.

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore announced again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

He got up, and walked slowly up to an unsmiling Dumbledore and into the chamber where the other champions awaited.

When Harry returned to the common room, he caused such an uproar that Genevieve jumped, knocking over a chair. It was, she supposed, much worse for him.

"You should've told us you'd entered!"

"How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!"

"Oh if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor - "

Beside her, Katie shouted, unnaturally high pitched. Genevieve put a finger in her ear. "You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!"

"Good heavens," Genevieve scolded. "Give him a break. Is Quidditch all you people talk about? And -"

she lowered her voice. "I don't think he put his name in."

"Of course he did," Katie said.

"No, just look at him."

Harry looked positively miserable, despite the fact that everyone was fussing over him; Lee had even tied a Gryffindor banner to him. Katie shrugged.

•~0~•

Harry wasn't at breakfast when she ate the next day, but Genevieve resolved to talk to him, and let him know she was on his side. Despite Gryffindor's support, the rest of the Houses weren't so keen on congratulating him. Actually, borderline hate was a more accurate description.

Nevertheless, when she caught him at breakfast the next morning, she said, in the best imitation of a typical teenage girl she could manage, "Merlin! I can't believe it!" She said shrilly. "It's Harry Potter! How did you enter your name into the goblet, Harry? Oh you're so brave, Harry! Will you sign my book bag, Harry? Oh damn, I haven't got a quill! Can you use lipstick?"

He grinned. "So you don't believe I put my name in the goblet?"

"No," she said as though it were obvious. "No offense, Harry," she said in a very Percy-like voice, "if I couldn't figure out how to help the twins enter - I doubt you could. Plus," she sat down next to him. "You should've seen your face when Dumbledore called you. Either you didn't do it, or you're the best actor I've ever seen."

"Thanks," he said.

She stood up. "I'm begging you though, knock some sense into Ron; I'm getting sick of the bloke."

"No promises," he muttered.

"He'll come around," she said. "You can't shake those Weasleys; trust me, I've been trying for six years."

He smiled. Satisfied, she walked away, going to the library to a bit of studying.

•~0~•

Genevieve managed to ditch the twins, Lee, and Ron in the Three Broomsticks and walked over to a table where Hermione was sitting, seemingly alone, working, of course, on S.P.E.W., though her lips were moving.

"Hi," she said. Hermione looked up, surprised and a little awkward. "I'm going to guess that, based on the fact that Ron's over there," she motioned to the twins' table, "and you're over here, and Harry's nowhere to be seen, that it's safe to . . . sit down."

Genevieve moved so that it looked as though she were about to sit across from Hermione. The younger girl's mouth opened in protest, but she never had to say the words, because Genevieve's hand, instead of pulling out the chair, came to rest on the thin air above the chair. She felt something solid, and smiled.

"Having fun, Harry?" she asked casually.

A disembodied voice answered, sounding amazed. "How do you know everything?"

She chuckled. "It's a beautiful, useful skill that I will never, ever teach you."

•~0~•

"I thought I told you _not_ to break the rest of the bones in your body." A teasing voice echoed into the hospital wing.

She smiled widely. "Pssh - it's definitely _not_ like I tripped over my own foot and fell down the stairs. Madam Pomfrey fixed me up though, good as new."

Genevieve brandished her mended leg. Charlie laughed.

"But what are you doing here?" She asked, confused. "Don't you have a job?" she joked.

"I did say that you might get to see the Hungarian Horntail," he said. "Here's your chance."

"Now?" Genevieve asked; it was almost nine.

Charlie didn't answer her. "Madam Pomfrey?"

Madam Pomfrey bustled into the room. "Yes?" she asked suspiciously.

"Seeing as how you've done such a wonderful job on Genevieve's leg here, and she's all well-rested, could she leave to visit a dear friend?" he asked with almost convincing innocence.

She tutted disapprovingly. "Oh all right," she said.

He turned to her. "Let's go."

Charlie led her outside the castle. It was dark. Finally, they approached a group of men.

"Now, you can't tell anyone about this," he warned. " _Especially_ not Harry. But Dumbledore asked my friends and I for a little favor, to help with the first task, and . . ."

He gestured past the talking men, where, laying unconscious on the ground were . . . _dragons?_

She gasped. They were so beautiful. There were four: one, a silvery blue; another, smooth and green; a third, fiery red; and the last, pitch black.

"The Hungarian Horntail," he pointed to the black one, listing, "the Common Welsh Green, a Swedish Short-Snout, and a Chinese Fireball."

Genevieve frowned. "Do the champions have to _fight_ them?"

"Just get past them, I think," he said. "We'll be on hand if it gets nasty, Extinguishing Spells at the ready. They wanted nesting mothers, I don't know why . . . but I tell you this, I don't envy the one who gets the Horntail. It can be absolutely vicious. Its back end's as dangerous as its front, look."

Large spikes decorated the dragon's tail. Genevieve winced, imagining what it could do to someone trying to get past it.

"Mum's all worried about Harry, of course." He did an uncanny impression, _" 'How could they let him enter that tournament, he's much too young! I thought they were all safe, I thought there was going to be an age limit!_ And that _Daily Prophet_ article had her in floods." Charlie shook his head.

"He didn't enter," Genevieve said. "And that Rita Skeeter's a lying cow."

He chuckled. "What's Mad-Eye say about it?"

"Reckons somebody's trying to kill him. Don't know if I believe him, but I think his theory's a hell of a lot closer than what everyone else thinks."

Charlie shook his head. "Just hope Mad-Eye's wrong."

"Me too."

The Horntail stirred. Charlie turned to her.

"We put them out with a Sleeping Draft, but it's wearing off, and I don't think they're going to be too happy when they wake up. You have to go. I'll see you after the first task."

Genevieve nodded. She gave Charlie a hug anyway, and departed for the common room.

•~0~•

Catching up on the time she'd lost lying around in the hospital wing, Genevieve stayed up late in the common room, long past most others. The longer she stayed up, however, the more anxious Hermione seemed to get.

"Calm down," she said. "It's just me left." She motioned to the empty room. "Do whatever you want - I'm not a prefect."

"It's not me that needs to do something with an empty common room, it's Harry," Hermione explained.

"And I'll go to bed as soon as he gets back. You're exhausted, go upstairs already."

Hermione examined her for a moment. "I reckon you're alright. Good. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to drop any Dung Bombs."

And with that random comment, she went up to the girls' dormitory.

The portrait hole opened. Nothing came in.

"Hi, Harry," Genevieve said, yawning.

Harry materialized, having previously been under the cloak. "Look," he said. "I don't have much time, and certainly not enough to explain."

"It's fine," Genevieve told him, packing up her books and standing up. She stretched for a moment and walked toward the dormitory, then stopped.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry scrambling the kneel in front of the fire.

Without looking back, she said to Harry, "Just tell the fire he better not be lying about Buckbeak."

As she left, she heard a quiet, bark-like laugh.


	9. Chapter 9: What’s the Big Deal?

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

The first task arrived sooner than Genevieve expected. Before she knew it, she was sitting in the stands, waiting for the start of what was, undoubtedly, going to be an interesting show.

Cedric Diggory was the first to face his dragon. He was trying to get past the Swedish Short-Snout. Genevieve watched curiously, wondering what method he was going to try. Diggory turned to a rock, Transfiguring it into a Labrador.

"Impressive," she whispered to Katie, who seemed way too wrapped up in Diggory than she would probably care to admit.

Genevieve realized what he was trying to do: distract the dragon with the dog so he could get to the egg. He was assuming, of course, that the dragon would see a dog as a bigger threat than a human trying to get to its eggs. Diggory was forgetting one crucial thing: this was a nesting _mother._

"That's not going to work," she muttered.

To her relief, for a while, it seemed she was wrong. The Labrador distracted the dragon long enough to Diggory to grab the egg - but then the dragon shifted its attention, burning the side of his face. Genevieve winced.

Fleur Delacour went next. She used a charm to put her dragon, the Welsh Green, into some sort of trance. The dragon, however, let out a snore and . . . set Fleur's skirt on fire. Genevieve failed to stifle a snort, and all the males in her immediate area scowled in her direction.

Krum tried the Conjunctivitus Curse, which worked in the sense that he effectively defeated the Chinese Fireball, but backfired due to the fact that the dragon, stomped on its own eggs as an effect of the pain the spell had caused.

"Poor thing," Genevieve said quietly. The people around her gave an incredulous look. She shrugged.

Harry's idea, however, was brilliant, suited just to his strengths. It was almost as though it was planned before - in fact, all of the champions looked as though they had already known. He used the Summoning Charm to get his Firebolt, which he used to get the Horntail to follow him into the air, leaving her eggs unguarded, allowing Harry to swoop down and grab the one he needed, only getting one scratch in the entire process.

After being congratulated by the professors, he was swept into the tent by an irritated Madam Pomfrey. Harry was awarded by the judges - Madame Maxime, Crouch, Dumbledore, Bagman, and Karkaroff - an eight, nine, nine, ten, and four, respectively. Genevieve met up with Charlie and went to congratulate him.

"You're tied in first place, Harry! You and Krum!" Charlie said excitedly.

"You were, by far, the best," Genevieve said. "Don't listen to Karkaroff."

"Listen, I've got to run, I've got to go and send Mum an owl, I swore I'd tell her what happened - but that was unbelievable! Oh yeah – and they told me to tell you you've got to hang around for a few more minutes . . . Bagman wants a word, back in the champions' tent."

Harry and Ron dashed off, and Charlie turned to her.

"Look - I've got to send this letter to Mum, and then we're off - don't want to keep the dragons here long. I don't know for sure when I'm going to see you again . . ."

He hugged her. "No more growing up."

"Promise," she replied.

He smiled, and jogged off to where the other Dragonologists were struggling to rein in the dragons. She went back to the castle, planning to relax for the rest of the day.

•~0~•

When she returned to the common room, Fred grabbed her arm, dragging her off.

"We're going to the kitchens," George informed her.

"Can't have a celebratory party without food," Fred said with a hint of glee.

Genevieve tickled the pear on the painting. It giggled back at her, and became a door handle. Genevieve swung open the door, and a dozen house-elves hurried up to her. "Gen Snow, Gen Snow!" they called. She grinned. She'd tried to get them to stick to just Gen, but even calling her by nickname seemed to be pushing it for them. "What can we do for you and your Wheezys?"

"We're not _her_ Wheezys," George said with mock outrage. The house-elves shrunk back.

"Very sorry, sir, what would you like?"

Genevieve jabbed him with her elbow.

"It's fine. We were just hoping to get some food for the rest of our House; Harry's just got first place in the first task."

They beamed back at her, and, almost instantly, Genevieve and the twins were surrounded by mountains of cake, pumpkin juice, and butterbeer.

With some effort, they managed to get it all back to the common room. Genevieve had a few cakes and some butterbeer and sat with a book while pandemonium reigned supreme around her. When Harry arrived, it seemed to triple. Many pressured Harry to open his egg, which contained a clue about the next task.

He did, and a horrible screeching sort of noise echoed throughout the room.

"Shut it!" Fred protested.

"It's preferable for me to have functioning eardrums after this!" Genevieve shouted, plugging her ears.

Thankfully, Harry got the message. Genevieve watched with amusement as the Gryffindors speculated what it could mean.

"I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing . . . Maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Harry," George joked.

"Please," Genevieve said, smirking. "You're insulting the egg."

Hermione managed to trick the twins into telling her how to get into the kitchens, and Neville demonstrated beautifully the effects of the Canary Creams. Genevieve yawned and retired to bed, though the party raged on.

•~0~•

Genevieve scoffed as girls walked past in herds, giggling every time they saw a boy. The news of the Yule Ball had just recently been announced, and Genevieve really didn't see what was so important.

Katie tried to explain. "It's a dance."

"So?"

"It's a dance on _Christmas_."

"Oh, how romantic."

"You get it!"

"No, I really don't."

After several unsuccessful attempts, she gave up. Many students had signed up to stay the holidays at Hogwarts this year, Genevieve among them, as her father had owled informing her that he had to work these holidays.

One day, they were planning to send another letter to Bagman, who had now managed to avoid them on multiple occasions.

They walked into the common room just in time to see a pyramid of Exploding Snap cards explode in Ron's face, leaving his eyebrows slightly crispy.

"Nice look, Ron . . . go well with your dress robes, that will."

George asked. "Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?"

"No, he's off delivering a letter. Why?"

"Because George wants to invite him to the Yule Ball," Fred deadpanned.

"Reckon he would make a better dancer," Genevieve commented.

"Because _we_ want to send a letter, you stupid great prat," George said.

"Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?"

"Nose out, Ron, or I'll burn that for you too," Fred threatened. "So . . . you lot got dates for the ball yet?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Well," Fred advised, "you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone."

"Who're you going with, then?"

"Angelina," Fred said without hesitation.

"What?" Ron asked in surprise. "You've already asked her?"

"Good point." Fred shouted across the common room, "Oi! Angelina!"

"What?" she asked with mild irritation.

"Want to come to the ball with me?"

She looked at him. "All right, then."

"I feel bad for her," Genevieve said teased. "First the tournament, and now she's got to go to a ball with the likes of you."

Fred laughed. "Yeah, you're not wrong."

George turned to Genevieve. "You and me?"

"Why not?" she replied with a shrug. "At least it'll be interesting."

"There you go," Fred addressed Harry and Ron again, who looked absolutely astonished that it had been so easy for them, "piece of cake."

They promptly left to borrow a school owl.

•~0~•

Genevieve and Ginny were studying in the library, Ginny a bit reluctantly, when Hermione had walked up, looking absolutely stunned.

"I've just got asked to the dance," she whispered breathlessly.

"That's great," Ginny said. "By who?"

"Krum," Hermione answered, still looking floored.

"What?" Both girls exclaimed in surprise.

"Why didn't he go with one of his fan club?" Genevieve questioned, gesturing to where a group of girls stood swooning as Krum brooded, looking _slightly_ less surly than usual.

"I-I don't know," she said.

Just then, Neville approached them, looking particularly flustered, more so than usual.

"H-Hermione, w-wanna go to the ball with me?"

Hermione's face fell. "I'm so sorry, Neville, I really am. I'm already going with someone."

He turned very red. Before he could run off, however, Genevieve, feeling sorry for him, said, "That was very brave, Neville, I'm sure you'll find someone."

The boy gave a weak smile, and said, "Thanks."

Ginny stood up, readying to go.

Neville seemed to have an idea. "Are you going with anyone, Ginny?"

"No," she replied.

"Wanna go with me?"

Ginny studied him for a minute. "Sure."

Neville smiled for real this time, and departed a little more confidently than he had entered.

"Well, that was nice of you," Genevieve said.

"Not really," Ginny said. "I wouldn't be able to go otherwise; I'm a third year."

Genevieve nodded. "Honestly, I don't understand why everyone gets so worked up about it. It's a time to have fun."

•~0~•

Christmas Day, Genevieve woke up, slipped on her new Weasley sweater - a bright aqua - and waited for Katie to rush in before opening her presents.

From Katie, she'd received a set of earrings that would match beautifully with her dress robes, along with the promise to fix her hair for the ball. From the twins, Genevieve had gotten a free box of Canary Creams. From Charlie, a small model of the Hungarian Horntail. And, from her father, a photo album of her mum, which she resolved to look through later.

She'd given Katie a miniature Firebolt, which she had bought at the Quidditch World Cup. The twins, more joke shop ideas, including having a Muggle magic section of their store. To her father, she had sent a letter detailing the players at the Quidditch Cup, like he'd asked. She'd sent Charlie some sweets from Honeydukes and a letter proudly stating that she hadn't gotten injured since the day in the hospital wing.

That afternoon, Genevieve was trying and failing to hit anything but the ground with a snowball in a rather vicious snowball fight with the twins, Harry, and Ron, while Hermione looked on. At five o'clock, she went in to get ready for the ball. Genevieve, however, stayed out till the last possible minute, which turned out to be an hour later, when Katie dragged her away.

She took a shower, reading a book while she waited to dry off. Katie was contemplating what to do with her short hair, finally deciding on a small side braid, with the rest of her hair curled gently. As Genevieve dressed and Katie fussed over her hair, Ginny laughing in the background, Hermione stepped out.

Her hair, usually bushy, was sleek and shiny, done up in a sophisticated bun, while her robes were a beautiful periwinkle blue. She smiled nervously.

"How do I look?"

"Stunning."

"Beautiful."

"Amazing."

"As always," Genevieve said, giving the girl a hug. "And much more approachable than I expect Krum could ever look."

She laughed. "You look nice too."

"Thanks. Shall we go?"

With a few last, minuscule tweaks to her hair by Katie, the girls walked to the common room. Hermione left early with Krum, though Genevieve suspected that she didn't want Harry or Ron to see her quite yet.

George was waiting for her.

"Don't you look nice?" He teased. "Suppose you'd want to, for a catch like me."

"I'm sorry," she replied jokingly. "I think you've mispronounced 'imbecile'."

He feigned offense. "How dare you?"

She laughed. "Let's just go already."

Genevieve spent the night laughing with Katie and Angelina at the twins, and feeling sorry for Angelina as Fred, with mostly good intentions, danced her so forcefully around the room that those around them backed away.

Harry and Ron didn't seem to be having a stellar night, however, looking quite miserable, Ron having a heated conversation with Hermione and Harry, ever loyal, staying with him. Fred and George tried to corner Bagman, but he shook them off again, though the fact that they were talking to Bagman at all dismayed Percy, who was there in place of a sick Crouch, so the effort wasn't in total vain.

Even though Genevieve had a great deal of fun, the Yule Ball still didn't seem worth all the trouble and effort that had gone into it. And certainly, the night had held some bad memories for others; Hermione and Ron continued bickering in the common room after the ball, Harry watching helplessly as Hermione stormed off.

Genevieve whistled softly. "Just stay out of it, Harry. With those two, I don't reckon trying to help would do any good at all."


	10. Chapter 10: To Hell With That Cow

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

She was having a fairly good day, until she saw the article. Ron, Harry, and Hermione showed it to her. Genevieve read through, growing angrier by the second. How dare this woman say such a thing about Hagrid! So what if he was a half-giant?

"We've got to go and see him," Genevieve said fiercely.

After dinner that evening, they knocked on the door. Hagrid didn't answer. Genevieve called through the wooden barrier and knocked and threatened to barge in anyway, but he wouldn't so much as acknowledge their presence. After a long while, they were forced to give up.

Hagrid didn't come to meals, he didn't teach his classes, he didn't do his gamekeeper chores, and Genevieve became more and more worried every time this happened. She almost missed a Hogsmeade weekend to go down and try again, but the others convinced her not to.

Genevieve went with the three to the Three Broomsticks, where Bagman stole Harry for a few minutes to chat, and, once again, rejected Fred and George's attempts at conversation.

"What did he want?" Ron asked as Harry returned.

"He offered to help with the golden egg."

"He shouldn't be doing that!" Hermione exclaimed with surprise. "He's one of the judges! And anyway, you've already worked it out – haven't you?"

Harry gave a weak answer in the affirmative. Genevieve raised an eyebrow. Hermione continued.

"Well, I don't think Dumbledore would like it if he knew Bagman was trying to persuade you to cheat! I hope he's trying to help Cedric as much!"

The three continued talking, with Genevieve sometimes inserting a remark here or there, but otherwise being very distracted, anxious about Hagrid. Suddenly, Ron said:

"Uh-oh."

Rita Skeeter had just sauntered in. Genevieve felt her fists curl up in anger. She was chatting with her photographer with a sickly satisfied expression on her face. Harry cut in.

"Trying to ruin someone's life?"

Skeeter recognized him, and began talking enthusiastically. "Harry! How lovely! Why don't you come and join - ?"

"I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick," Harry spat in disgust.

Genevieve snorted. "Try fifty. You make me sick."

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't recall asking your opinion."

Genevieve smiled fakely. "I don't recall a reporter's job being to make wild accusations about innocent people for a second of fame."

"What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?" Harry asked, red with rage.

"Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my - "

"Who cares if he's half-giant? There's nothing wrong with him!"

Skeeter quickly seized the opportunity, grabbing what Genevieve recognized to be a Quick-Quotes Quill, and suggesting, "How about giving me an interview about the Hagrid _you_ know, Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it. Would you call him a father substitute?"

Hermione had had enough.

"You horrible woman," she said venomously, trying to control her fury, "you don't care, do you, anything for story, and anyone will do, what day? Even Ludo Bagman - "

"Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand - "

Genevieve laughed mirthlessly. "I think we understand better than you do, Skeeter. See, a lesson you could do to learn is that a person's blood doesn't determine who they are. Their _choices_ do. Your choices separate you from everyone else, just like Hagrid's do him. And Hagrid is an _infinitely_ better person than a cow like you could _ever hope_ to be. With all honesty, Voldemort," Skeeter flinched, but her eyes looked coldly back at Genevieve, "is the only person I can think to compare you to right now, because anyone who would so eagerly try to destroy another person's life for the sake of a bit of glory is a true monster indeed. You're not worth the filthiest rags on the planet, and surely not the lies that quill spits out."

"Let's go," Hermione said, "c'mon . . ."

Genevieve walked out with her head held high, many people staring as they left. Rita Skeeter's quill was in non-stop motion.

"She'll be after the two of you next," Ron said with a hint of worry.

"Let her try!" Hermione responded. "I'll show her! Silly little girl, am I? Oh, I'll get her back for this. First Harry, then Hagrid . . ."

Genevieve was equally unconcerned. "Like I care what the world thinks about me anyway. I'll send my dad and Charlie a letter explaining if I have to, but I don't regret a word I just said."

"You don't want to go upsetting Rita Skeeter," Ron warned. "I'm serious, she'll dig up something - "

"My parents don't read the _Daily Prophet._ She can't scare me into hiding!" Hermione picked up her pace. "And Hagrid isn't hiding anymore! He should _never_ have let that excuse for a human being upset him! Come _on_!"

Genevieve didn't have to do anything this time. Hermione did it for her, pummeling the front door all the while. "Hagrid! Hagrid, that's enough! We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can't let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you! Hagrid, get out here, you're just being - "

The door swung open. "About t - "

Hermione stopped talking. Dumbledore had answered, not Hagrid.

"Good afternoon," he said cheerfully.

"We - er - we wanted to see Hagrid," Hermione squeaked sheepishly.

"Yes, I surmised as much. Why don't you come in?"

"Oh . . . um . . . okay."

Genevieve walked in to see Hagrid looking an absolute mess.

"Hi, Hagrid," Harry said gently.

" 'Lo," Hagrid responded huskily.

"More tea, I think," Dumbledore said, conjuring a tea tray and some cakes. "Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid?"

Hermione blushed, while Dumbledore continued. "Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Genevieve still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door."

"Of course we still want to know you!" Harry declared. "You don't think anything that Skeeter cow - sorry, Professor."

"It's a lot tamer than what I just called her to her face," Genevieve mumbled.

"I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't any idea what you said, Harry," Dumbledore said innocently.

"Er - right. I just meant - Hagrid, how could you think we'd care what that - woman - wrote about you?"

Hagrid only cried more, though silently, which Genevieve regarded as progress. Dumbledore spoke again.

"Living proof of what I've been telling you, Hagrid. I have shown you the letters from the countless parent who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it - "

"Not all of 'em," Hagrid argued weakly. "Not all of 'em wan' me ter stay."

"Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal popularity, I'm afraid you will be in this cabin for a very long time. Not a week has passed since I became headmaster of this school when I haven't had at least one owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?"

"Yeh - yeh're not half-giant!"

"Hagrid, look what I've got for relatives!" Harry said. "Look at the Dursleys!"

"An excellent point. My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery . . ."

"Please, Hagrid, come back," pleaded Genevieve.

Hermione kept on. "Come back and teach, Hagrid, please come back, we really miss you."

Dumbledore stood to go. "I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday. You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all."

And he promptly left, only pausing to pet Fang. Hagrid began to bawl. When he finally stopped, he said, "Great man, Dumbledore . . . great man . . ."

He spoke for a while more, some of it incomprehensible to Genevieve, though the others seemed to understand. As she listened and comforted him though, one thought was racing through her mind: Rita Skeeter was _not_ getting away with this.


	11. Chapter 11: To Breathe Underwater

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

She stirred carefully, and the potion quickly changed to have a mother-of-pearl sheen, spiraling steam billowing up. Genevieve breathed in the scent, smelling, simultaneously, winter snow, fresh parchment, and a sort of sweaty, smoky scent that would, undoubtedly, be what Charlie smelled like.

She smiled.

Snape walked by, sneering. Genevieve suspected that he had assumed even she would botch the potion, as the making of Amortentia was extremely difficult. Ever since she had aided in Sirius' escape last year, he had been inspecting her work with a more critical eye than usual, trying to find mistakes in her typically flawless work.

His face crumpled in disappointment, but he quickly hid it, spitting an "acceptable" at her before slinking away.

"How do you do that?" Angelina said in exasperation. Her potion was still resolutely thick and solid colored. "I reckon you could sell some of your work, you've got natural talent for Potions. And your Amortentia is perfect."

Genevieve shrugged, grinning. She absentmindedly swept a beetle to the floor and watched it scurry away.

•~0~•

"Snow, Weasley, and Weasley."

They stopped in their tracks. The three knew better than to disrespect McGonagall.

"Have you any idea where the youngest Weasley boy and Granger are?"

"I think they're in the library, Professor," Genevieve said. "We can go get them for you, if you'd like."

McGonagall seemed more stiff than normal, if that was possible. Her mouth was set in a thin line, which Genevieve knew they, for once, weren't the cause of. The trio hadn't done anything recently - _yet._ But something about McGonagall's demeanor told Genevieve this wasn't a time to mess around.

"Please do." And she set off for her office.

Genevieve whistled softly.

"Whatever she has to do with Ron and Hermione, she's not looking forward to it," George commented.

" 'Course not. Why would she? It's _Ron_ ," Fred said with a smirk.

And they departed for the library.

Upon entering, they heard Hermione say, in exasperation, "Oh this is no use. Who on earth wants to make their nose hair grow into ringlets?"

"I wouldn't mind," Fred remarked. "Be a talking point, wouldn't it?"

"I'll never be able to look at your nose the same way again," Genevieve said in disgust.

"What're you three doing here?" Ron asked curiously. After all, it was rather rare to find the Weasley twins in a library.

"Looking for you. McGonagall wants you, Ron. And you, Hermione," he informed.

"Why?"

"Dunno . . . she was looking a bit grim, though."

"We're supposed to take you down to her office."

Genevieve watched Harry's eyes widen in panic. Clearly, they were looking for something.

"We'll meet you back in the common room," Hermione said reassuringly to Harry, though she looked apprehensive herself. "Bring as many of these books as you can, okay?"

"Right," Harry replied uncertainly.

"And I'll stay here," Genevieve offered. "Help you find whatever you're looking for. The library's like a second home for me - er, after the hospital wing."

He grinned as the rest of the group left.

"All right. What're you searching for?"

"Something to help me breathe underwater for an hour. For the second task."

Genevieve's brow furrowed. "I've read about that. I know I have. What is it?"

"You know the spell?" Harry seemed excited now.

"Thing is, I don't think it's a spell. I've always been able to memorize spells without a problem, but I can't think of this. It could be a plant," she said with a hint of doubt. "But I don't reckon we could find out in one night; there's much too many without knowing exactly what you're looking for, and even if we did, we'd have a job finding it so soon."

Harry slouched.

"There's the Bubble-Head Charm; it's not well-known, which would explain why you haven't been able to find it before now, but it could work . . . no . . it's much too tricky to learn in one night."

"Should we just keep reading through?"

"I suppose so," Genevieve replied, opening the nearest book.

And so they read. They read until eight, when Madam Prince closed the library and kicked them out. And they carried books to the common room to read still. But there was nothing.

It was only when they had finished the entire pile of books, Snowflake curled up in Genevieve's lap and Crookshanks in Harry's, and Genevieve was stifling a yawn every two minutes, that Harry told her to go to bed, and that he would, under the Invisibility Cloak, return to the library and keep reading.

Genevieve tried to protest, but a yawn cut her off, and she nodded sleepily before trudging up the stairs and collapsing into bed.

•~0~•

"Genevieve! Wake up! Do you want to watch the second task or not?"

She groggily opened her eyes. Katie was standing by the dormitory door, fully dressed and slightly irrititated. "Finally!

"The task starts in an hour. We've just enough time to eat breakfast before we go down to watch."

Katie flung some clothes at her. "Get dressed."

Knowing better than to disobey, she quickly dressed and they made their way to the Great Hall.

In the seats by the lake, they waited anxiously. Harry had yet to show up.

"Oh I hope he comes," Genevieve said, biting her lip. They were about to start.

As if on cue, Genevieve saw a blur dash onto the bank, near the judges table before finally stopping. Percy, who was once again in Crouch's place, looked extremely disapproving of the panting fourth year, the heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang also looking disappointed Harry had managed to show up.

Bagman's voice, magically magnified, echoed, "Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One . . . two . . . _three_!"

Harry quickly ate some plant before entering the lake. Genevieve slapped her forehead.

"Gillyweed! How could I forget? How did he figure it out in time? How did he _get_ some?"

"Shh!" Katie hissed.

Cedric and Fleur had used the Bubble-Head Charm, while Krum had done rather disastrous, but effective, human Transfiguration. He was now half-shark.

"Well, that's - er - interesting," Genevieve said. Katie scowled at her.

Harry had now completely disappeared. And so they waited.

"Wait," Genevieve said, frowning. "Where're Ron and Hermione? I haven't seen them since we sent them to McGonagall."

"Dunno," Fred responded. "Look!"

Fleur had resurfaced, covered in cuts and with ripped robes. She looked quite distraught.

They waited yet more time. Finally, Cedric appeared, with Cho.

"They took _people_?" Genevieve asked in disgust.

Soon after, Krum came up with Hermione, still part shark. He seemed eager to talk to her, or at least Genevieve thought. It was a little hard to read the emotions of a shark man. Hermione, on the other hand, was anxiously awaiting Harry's finish.

At long last, well past the hour mark, Harry's head popped out of the lake, accompanied by Ron and a younger girl who was, unmistakably, Fleur's sister.

Percy grabbed Ron, who looked annoyed at the sudden display of affection, while Genevieve was surprised.

"So he has a heart after all," she said, impressed.

Fleur was also hugging her little sister furiously, before Madam Pomfrey seized them all, stuffing them into blankets and force feeding them Pepperup Potion.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, was having an animated conversation with a mermaid, presumably the chief. After he finished, the judges went into deliberation.

Bagman's voice boomed out again. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows . . .

"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."

Genevieve clapped politely.

"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was the first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour. We therefore award him forty-seven points.

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points.

"Harry Potte used gillyweed to great effect. He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own. Most of the judges," Bagman continued, shooting Karkaroff a rather disdainful look, "feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However . . . Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."

Harry was now tied with Cedric! Genevieve cheered in victory. Now there was only the third task left . . .

•~0~•

Harry showed Genevieve a message from Sirius.

 _Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can. Buckbeak will be here too._

"Good," she muttered. "I can check up on him. Make sure Sirius is keeping his word. But wait - couldn't he get caught?"

"Yeah," Harry said worriedly.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," she said quickly. "He's made it almost two years already."

For the rest of the day though, the Slytherins looked at Genevieve and either sniggered or asked for help mockingly with Love Potions, which she vehemently rejected, though she didn't understand why it was happening at all.

Finally, Katie rushed up to her, looking shocked. She was holding a copy of _Witch Weekly._

"You're in here!" Katie whispered fiercely. "Look!"

Genevieve took the magazine and flipped through it until she landed on a page plastered with Harry's face, an article with it.

 _ **Harry Potter's Secret Heartache**_

 _A boy like no other, perhaps — yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter though he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss._

 _Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger, aided by gossip-happy and scheming Genevieve Snow, has been playing with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl."_

 _However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys' interest. Miss Snow and her reported "natural talent for Potions," with a renowned ability to create Amortentia, an extremely potent Love Potion, may be in play here._

 _"She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, regarding Miss Granger, "but she and Snow'd be well up to making a Love Potion, they're quite brainy, and they spend a lot of time together, whispering and surrounded by books. I think that's how she's doing it."_

 _Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore want to investigate these claims. In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate._

Genevieve laughed. "That's the best Skeeter can throw at me? Speculating that I'm spending my time creating a love triangle between two fourth-years and an eighteen-year-old?" She shook her head, trying to catch her breath. "She's pulling at straws, that woman."

Genevieve thought for a moment, though Katie still looked worried. "It's weird, though. That's exactly what Angelina said about me. That I'm a natural at Potions. How could she have known . . . ?"

"All I know," Katie said anxiously, "is that a lot of people are going to get mad about this."

"If people really get their knickers in a twist about what a few teenagers are doing, they need to reevaluate their life," Genevieve said, unconcerned.

•~0~•

Hermione, she learned, shared the same sentiments, and they departed the next day for a Hogsmeade visit to see Sirius, sneaking a dozen chicken legs, a loaf of bread, and a flask of pumpkin juice in Harry's bag.

On the way to the meeting point, they went into Gladrags Wizardwear to purchase some socks for Dobby, whom, Harry had informed Genevieve, had been the one to give him the gillyweed. She rather enjoyed browsing the interesting selection, before the group decided on socks and left to see Sirius.

A large black dog waited for them, newspapers clamped tightly in its jaws. At Harry's greeting, it promptly turned and led the way to a hard to find cave. Buckbeak was tied inside it. Genevieve, along with the others, bowed to him before petting him gently, while Harry addressed Sirius.

"Chicken!" Sirius exclaimed with excitement, taking the food from Harry and eating it eagerly.

"Thanks. I've been living off rats mostly. Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself."

"What're you doing here, Sirius?"

"Fulfilling my duty as godfather. Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray. I want to be on the spot. Your last letter . . . well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing the paper every time someone throws one out, by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who's getting worried."

"What if they catch you? What if you're seen?"

"You four and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus," Sirius responded, still eating almost desperately.

Genevieve stayed with Buckbeak while the others observed the _Daily Prophets._ Sirius, however, still munching, looked at her.

"Well?" He asked with mock anxiety. "What's the verdict?"

Genevieve examined Buckbeak closely. She sighed. "He seems well cared for," she said. "But the second he doesn't," Genevieve added, "you'll have me to answer to."

Sirius grinned, nodding. Harry and Ron were ignoring them completely, absorbed in an article about Mr. Crouch.

"They're making it sound like he's dying. But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here . . ."

"My brother's Crouch's personal assistant," Ron told Sirius. "He says Crouch is suffering from overwork."

"Mind you, he _did_ look ill, last time I saw him up close," Harry continued. "The night my name came out of the goblet . . ."

"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" Hermione commented harshly from beside Genevieve. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now - bet he feels the difference now that she's not there to look after him."

Genevieve was suddenly very interested in watching Buckbeak eat the chicken bones. Ron, however, explained to Sirius.

"Hermione's obsessed with house-elves."

Sirius, however, thought this was strange. "Crouch sacked his house-elf?"

"Yeah, at the Quidditch World Cup," and Harry told Sirius the story of what had happened.

Sirius began pacing in thought.

"Let me get this straight. You first saw the elf in the Top Box. She was saving Crouch a seat, right?"

"Right," they all replied.

"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"

"No," Harry answered. "I think he said he'd been too busy."

Sirius kept pacing. "Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?"

"Erm . . ." Harry'd brow furrowed in thought. "No. I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there was my Omnioculars. Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?"

"It's possible."

Hermione interjected, rather adamantly, "Winky didn't steal that wand!"

Genevieve sighed. The girl's love for house-elves could really blind her at times. "Hermione, Winky wasn't the only other in the Box."

Sirius looked intrigued. "Who else was sitting behind you?"

"Loads of people. Some Bulgarian ministers . . . Cornelius Fudge . . . The Malfoys . . ."

"The Malfoys!" Ron said loudly without warning, causing Genevieve to jump and Buckbeak to react nervously. "I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!"

"Anyone else?" Sirius prompted.

"No one," Harry said.

"Yes, there was, there was Ludo Bagman," Hermione recalled.

"Oh yeah . . ."

"I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to be Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps. What's he like?"

"He's okay. He keeps offering to help me with the Triwizard Tournament."

"Does he now? I wonder why he'd do that?"

"Says he's taken a liking to me."

"Hmm," Sirius said thoughtfully.

"We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared. Remember?" Hermione said.

"Yeah, but he didn't stay in the forest, did he?" Ron pointed out. "The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite."

"How d'you know?" Hermione said, still defiant. "How d'you know where he Disapparated to?"

"Come off it. Are you saying you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?"

"It's more likely he did it than Winky," Hermione argued.

"Hermione, you're willing to blame anyone just to prove Winky's innocent when nobody is saying she's guilty," Genevieve said with exasperation.

"Told you," Ron said to Sirius, "told you she's obsessed with house - "

Sirius stopped him, holding up a hand.

"When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?"

"Went to look in the bushes, but there wasn't anyone else there."

"Of course, of course," Sirius said, talking more to himself than to them, "he'd want to pin it on anyone but his own elf . . . and then he sacked her?"

"Yes," Hermione replied angrily, "he sacked her, just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled - "

"Hermione, will you give it a rest with the elf!" Ron said, frustrated.

Sirius backed her. "She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.

"All these absences of Barty Crouch's . . . he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too . . . It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak."

"Try it, I dare you, and it will be the last thing you ever do," Genevieve said warningly.

Sirius grinned at her a bit.

"D'you know Crouch, then?" Harry asked.

His face filled with menace and hatred.

"Oh I know Crouch all right," he muttered. "He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban - without a trial."

 _"What?"_ Genevieve, Ron, and Hermione said in unison.

"You're kidding!" Harry exclaimed.

"No, I'm not. Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?"

All four shook their heads, Genevieve still baffled.

"He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic. He was a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical - and power-hungry. Oh never a Voldemort supporter," Sirius explained. "No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who are against the Dark Side . . . well, you wouldn't understand . . . You're too young . . ."

"I'm of age," Genevieve said, slightly offended.

"That's what my dad said at the World Cup," Ron said. "Try us, why don't you?"

Sirius smiled. "All right, I'll try you . . . Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing . . . the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere . . . panic . . . confusion . . . that's how it used to be.

"Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning - I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers - powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who is headed straight to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you - plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened . . . Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Dearh Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

"Crouch's _son_ was caught?" Hermione said in shock.

"Yes. Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while . . . gotten to know his own son."

Sirius had finished the chicken and begun eating the bread.

" _Was_ his son a Death Eater?" Harry asked.

"No idea. I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I bet my life were Death Eaters - but he might have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like that house-elf."

"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione asked.

Sirius laughed. "Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again - doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy . . . then he said him straight to Azkaban."

"He gave his own son to the dementors?" Harry asked in a mixture of horror and disbelief.

"That's right. I saw the dementors bringing him in, watch them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days though . . . they all went quiet in the end . . . except when they shrieked in their sleep . . ."

Sirius looked haunted.

"So he's still in Azkaban?"

"No. No, he's not there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."

"He _died_?"

"He wasn't the only one. Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. The boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife passed my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it.

"So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made. One moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic . . . next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

A long silence followed Sirius' words. Genevieve understood why Crouch had acted so drastically at the World Cup; it had reminded him of all the worst times in his life. Finally, Harry broke the quiet, telling Sirius, "Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards."

"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him. If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater," Sirius said with a nod.

"And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office," Ron added.

"Yes, and that doesn't make sense at all," Sirius said.

"Yeah, it does!" Ron said, but Genevieve interrupted.

"Ron, if Crouch wanted to keep an eye on Snape, he could have just come to the tournament tasks. He's a judge; it's the perfect excuse to keep Snape under his watch."

Sirius nodded.

"So you think Snape could be up to something, then?" Harry asked. Hermione shook her head.

"Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape - "

"Oh give it a rest, Hermione. I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him - "

"She's not wrong, Ron," Genevieve said. Hermione kept on.

"Why did Snape save Harry's life in the first year, then? Why didn't he just let him die?"

"I dunno - maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out - "

"What d'you think, Sirius?" Harry asked over all of them.

"I think they've both got a point. Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was." Genevieve supposed he still hadn't forgiven Snape for trying to catch him the past year. "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school then half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."

Sirius started listing. "Rosier and Wilkes - they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges - they're a married couple - they're in Azkaban. Avery - from what I've heard he worked his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse - he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater – not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."

"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet," volunteered Ron.

"Yeah, you should've seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday! Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he says Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was."

Sirius looked confused. "He showed Snape something on his arm? Well, I've no idea what that's about . . . but if Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers . . .

"There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."

"Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office then?" Ron seemed determined to incriminate Snape.

"Well, I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defense Against the Dark Arts very seriously, Moody. I'm not sure _he_ trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though . . . he's a different matter . . . is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not . . . what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?"

Sirius, after a moment's thought, turned to Ron. "You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"

Genevieve snorted. "Don't reckon anything'll come from it. Percy's too prideful and idolizes Crouch too much to even see if Crouch were doing something under his nose. And he _won't_ take to being asked about it well."

"I can try," Ron answered skeptically. "I'd have to be careful not to make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Like Genevieve said, Percy loves Crouch."

"And you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it."

"Bagman told me they hadn't," Harry replied.

"Yes, he's quoted in the article in there. Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all - quite the reverse. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. Used to get her into a lot of trouble; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability at the Ministry of Magic . . . Maybe that's why Bagman didn't bother to look for her for so long . . ."

Sirius sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"What's the time?"

"It's half past three, Hermione provided.

"You'd better get back to school. Now listen . . ." he shot a hard glance at Harry. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

"No one's tried to attach me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows," Harry said.

"I don't care . . . I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourself, call me Snuffles, okay?"

Genevieve gave one last hug to Buckbeak.

"I'll walk to the edge of the village with you," Sirius offered, "see if I can scrounge another paper."

He turned back into the black dog and guided them back. Miraculously, Genevieve didn't trip anywhere, despite the steep incline of the mountain. While the others talked on the way back to Hogwarts, Genevieve was silent. What _was_ going on here?


	12. Chapter 12: The Rage of Fans

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Monday morning, Genevieve sat in the Great Hall, shaking her head.

"Hermione, why would you say such a thing directly to the house-elves?"

"Because they deserve everything people have, and they deserve to know it!" Hermione said defiantly.

Genevieve sighed. "All right, I'll get the food for Sirius from now on; they won't be wanting you three in the kitchens anymore, but what's the point of telling them they deserve something when they don't even want it?"

Hermione started to answer, but owls swooped in, and the girl looked up expectantly.

"Percy won't've had time to answer yet," Ron reminded her. "We only sent Hedwig yesterday."

"No, it's not that. I've taken out a subscription to the _Daily Prophet._ I'm getting sick of finding everything out from the Slytherins."

"Good thinking!" Harry said. "Hey, Hermione, I think you're in luck - "

An owl was flying straight toward Hermione.

"It hasn't got a newspaper, though. It's - "

The original owl landed in front of her, and multiple owls landed with it. To Genevieve's surprise, the same thing happened to her. Owls fought to get their letters to her first.

"This doesn't make sense," she said, confused. "I've only just replied to Charlie a few days ago."

Genevieve opened a letter.

 _You should be ashamed of yourself, helping that wicked Muggle girl trick Harry Potter. Kill yourself._

Genevieve smiled serenely. "Same to you." She picked up the lot and went to chuck them in the rubbish bin, but one broke open, spilling bubotuber pus all over her right hand. Hermione was having the same problems, but on both hands.

Together, the two girls made their way to the hospital wing. Genevieve would have to make up Ancient Runes later. It was no problem; the professor rather liked her.

Madam Pomfrey simply sighed when Genevieve entered the hospital wing, ushering them into beds.

"What have you lot done this time?" she asked in a disapproving voice.

"It's not us, that lying magazine article angered a lot of people." Hermione said.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head and began applying an ointment to their hands, then bandaging them. She tutted under her breath.

Once Madam Pomfrey cleared them, Genevieve rushed to class, muttering furiously about a cow named Rita Skeeter.

•~0~•

Letters continued to arrive, and Genevieve and Hermione continued to toss them, though they did receive the occasional Howler, which, of course, they were forced to listen to anyway. When Hermione asked Genevieve how she wasn't annoyed in the slightest and, in actuality, was unbothered by the hurtful words and stinging insults, Genevieve shrugged.

"It's rather entertaining, actually. They get more creative everyday. But trust me, Skeeter's paying for the undiluted bubotuber pus."

"I just want to know how she's listening to private conversations when she's banned from the grounds," Hermione said with a trace of irritation.

"Yeah, that is weird. She knew exactly what Angelina said about me. Maybe you could ask Moody; can't his eye see through Invisibility Cloaks and things like that?"

Hermione nodded thoughtfully.

"I suppose that, if something was annoying me, it would be people asking me to mix up Love Potions for them," Genevieve said as a young girl approached her and she waved her off.

It happened at least three times a day, and Genevieve's usual retort was, "You're pathetic enough to need one?" but the constant flood of dreamy-eyed girls surrounding her was getting old.

The biggest disappointment, however, was Mrs. Weasley's Easter eggs. She sent them annually, but this year, Genevieve's egg was less than half its usual size, as was Hermione's. It hurt her that Mrs. Weasley would believe such a farfetched article.

Percy's letter about Mr. Crouch was exactly as Genevieve predicted it would be: revealing nothing and appalled that they had the nerve to ask.

Meanwhile, the heavy workload was ever increasing. It was as if the teachers expected them to take their N.E.W.T.s this year rather than the next. Between Moody's attacks of a lesson, nonverbal spells, Ancient Runes (an entirely different language), Human Transfiguration, and ever complicated potions, it was a miracle Genevieve had any free time at all, and she usually spent it with the twins, Katie, crosswords with Myrtle (the often mopey ghost who enjoyed her company and her crosswords), or Ron, Harry, and Hermione.

Near the end of May, Harry told them he was to go down to the Quidditch field at eight to learn about the final task. When he returned, though, he looked seriously disturbed.

Harry told them about Krum and him talking when Mr. Crouch, almost insane, had stopped him and insisted to see Dumbledore. When Harry had left Krum to watch over him, he and Dumbledore had returned to find Krum Stunned and Crouch gone.

Hermione looked like she had a headache. "It comes down to this. Either Mr. Crouch attacked Viktor, or somebody attacked both of them when Viktor wasn't looking."

"It must've been Crouch," Ron claimed instantly. "That's why he was gone when Harry and Dumbledore got there. He'd done a runner."

"I think it's the latter," Genevieve input. "If he was anywhere near as bad as Harry says he was, there's no way he could've gotten away that fast."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "He seemed really weak - I don't reckon he was up to Disapparating or anything."

Hermione responded with exasperation. "You _can't_ Disapparate on the Hogwarts grounds - "

" - haven't I told you enough times?" Genevieve finished goodnaturedly. The girl sent her a fake glare.

"Okay . . . how's this for a theory," Ron presented enthusiastically. "Krum attacked Mr. Crouch - no, wait for it - and then Stunned himself!"

"And Mr. Crouch evaporated, did he?" Hermione retorted, looking at him.

"Oh yeah . . ."

•~0~•

The next morning, she woke early. Fred and George had roped her into helping send a letter to Bagman, blackmailing him into paying them back. Genevieve and George were strongly against this idea.

"We can't do it," George said, "that's blackmail, that is, we could get into a lot of trouble for that - "

" - we've tried being polite; it's time to play dirty, like him. He wouldn't like the Ministry of Magic knowing what he did - "

"This won't end well, and how far are you willing to sink to win in the end?"

"It's not about that; it's about getting what's ours back!"

"I'm telling you, if you put that in writing, it's blackmail!"

"Yeah, and you won't be complaining if we get a nice fat payoff, will you?"

They opened the door to the Owlery to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione looking nervously back at them.

"What're you doing here?" Ron and Fred said in unplanned unison.

"Sending a letter," Harry, George, and Genevieve replied at the same time.

"What, at this time?" Hermione and Fred said.

Fred compromised. "Fine - we won't ask you what you're doing, if you don't ask us."

They all stood around for a moment.

"Well, don't let us hold you up," Fred gestured grandiosely to the door.

Ron looked for a moment as if he were deciding if he dared or not. He seemed to decide he did dare, because he said, "Who're you blackmailing?"

The twins and Genevieve looked at each other.

"Don't be stupid, I was only joking," George lied.

"Didn't sound like that," Ron said.

They glanced at each other again. "I've told you before, Ron, keep your nose out if you like it the shape it is. Can't see why you would, but - "

"It's my business if you're blackmailing someone," countered Ron. "George's right, you could end up in serious trouble for that."

"Told you, I was joking," George repeated. He tied the letter to a nearby owl. "You're starting to sound a bit like our dear older brother, you are, Ron. Carry on like this and you'll be made a prefect."

"No, I won't!" Ron protested as though it were the greatest insult.

"Well, stop telling people what to do then. See you later."

With that, Fred and George exited. Genevieve lingered.

"Here's a bit of food to send to Snuffles," she pulled out of her bag about a dozen cakes and some more chicken, along with pumpkin juice. She also produced a letter. "Can you send this for me too? It's telling him to keep taking care of Buckbeak."

She grinned at them, and hurried off to study before class began.

•~0~•

The news had echoed across the school. Skeeter's newest article painted Harry as "Disturbed and Dangerous", untrustworthy also a part of the list. She claimed that he was looking for attention or was insane, or both, and that Dumbledore should question whether to allow Harry in the tournament or at Hogwarts at all.

That morning, Genevieve was sitting with Ron, Harry, and Hermione as the Slytherins sniggered at Harry for his scar hurting during Divination, which had spurred the article itself.

"How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?" Ron asked, confused. "There's no way she could've heard - "

"The window was open," suggested Harry. "I opened it to breathe."

"You were at the top of North Tower!" Hermione exclaimed. "Your voice couldn't have carried all the way down to the grounds!"

Genevieve shut them out, mumbling to herself as she concentrated.

"There's got to be a common factor. The first was Hagrid, and Harry and Ron overheard him that night too, outside . . . and . . . and . . ."

Genevieve's eyes widened. "And the second time was the second task, when Krum and Hermione . . . outside, and the - the . . ."

Harry and Ron looked back and forth between her and Hermione, who was also having a realization. She was muttering as well.

". . . but she's not allowed . . . she's _definitely_ not allowed . . . I think we've got her! Just give me two seconds in the library - just to make sure!"

Hermione and Genevieve nodded at each other, and dashed off. When they had arrived at the library, Genevieve snatched from a shelf a book about Animagi, while Hermione grabbed the copy of the Animagus Registry.

They looked at each other. Genevieve started.

"Harry and Ron, they were outside when they overheard Hagrid talking to Madame Maxime!"

"And Viktor - when Viktor was talking to me, he swept a beetle out of my hair!"

"When I was making the Amortentia in Potions, _there was a beetle on the desk!"_

"And she could've been on the ledge of North Tower!"

"And the Slytherins - the Slytherins have been talking to her in the palm of their hands!"

"But she's definitely not registered," Hermione finished. They checked the Registry, which was blissfully devoid of the name "Rita Skeeter" _or_ "Lying Cow".

"We've got her!"

"But we have to catch her in the act," Hermione said, biting her lip.

"I suppose we'll just have to keep an eye out," Genevieve said, sighing. She checked her watch. "We'd better hurry; we'll be late for our exams."

And they rushed away.


	13. Chapter 13: Orders

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

At lunch, Genevieve sat with Fred and George, taking a much needed break from the stressful exams by discussing Bagman, as well as plans for the joke shop.

Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Harry walked up to the Gryffindor table, Ron joining seconds later.

"Come on," Genevieve urged, and they moved to go sit by the lot. "I need to find out for sure if she believes all those lies Skeeter wrote."

They acted much the same, Bill flashed a grin at her, but Genevieve noticed that Mrs. Weasley avoided making eye contact with her throughout the meal. Halfway through, Hermione showed up, having just finished the research on Skeeter, which Genevieve had opted out of for the moment.

Harry looked curious. "Are you going to tell us — "

Hermione shook her head, looking at Mrs. Weasley.

"Hello, Hermione," Mrs. Weasley greeted coldly.

Genevieve winced. Mrs. Weasley, at the moment, was still not acknowledging her existence.

Harry decided to tell her. "Mrs. Weasley, you didn't believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote in _Witch_ _Weekly_ , did you? Because Hermione's not my girlfriend, and Genevieve does not make Love Potions for her."

"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, reddening slightly. "No — of course I didn't!"

Mrs. Weasley smiled at Genevieve, who sighed with relief. Fred and George had been too busy with Bagman to tell her, and she wasn't about to bother Charlie with convincing his mum of the truth.

Bill was looking at her rather curiously. "Charlie told me to tell you that he couldn't get time off to come see the task or visit you, and to say he's sorry."

Genevieve nodded. "Yeah, he's sent me a letter too." She held up a folded piece of parchment.

"I was just wondering — "

He was cut off. Lunch had ended, and it was time for Genevieve to take another exam. He smiled again, though it looked suspiciously like a smirk, and took off with Harry and Mrs. Weasley.

•~0~•

She sat nervously with Ron, Hermione, Bill, and Mrs. Weasley in the stands, the champions standing near the maze and looking twice as anxious. Genevieve hoped Harry would win, but also that he wouldn't get murdered in the process. For some reason, she had a bad feeling about the night.

Bagman began announcing. "Ladies and gentlemen, the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each — Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts school!"

The crowd cheered deafeningly loudly.

"In second place, with 80 points — Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!" Nearly every girl in her vicinity swooned. "And in third place — Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!"

Harry waved at them. Genevieve smiled and returned it.

"So . . . on my whistle, Harry and Cedric! Three — two — one — "

Bagman blew the whistle, and Harry and Cedric darted into the maze, disappearing from sight.

A while passed, and Bagman whistled again, signaling Krum to enter. More time passed, and it was Fleur's turn.

"How d'you think he's doing?" Genevieve asked worriedly, trying to peer into the maze.

"Dunno," Ron replied, oddly quiet.

"Oh I hope he's alive at the end of this," Genevieve whispered to Hermione, who nodded. They both knew not to say such a thing where Mrs. Weasley, who seemed fretful enough as it was.

Suddenly, a high-pitched scream jarred them all.

"That'll be Fleur," Genevieve said, frowning. She craned her neck, but no red sparks flew up, which the champions were expected to send into the air should they need help.

Minutes passed, but it seemed like much more, time just barely moving, trudging slowly along. She caught a glimpse of red sparks, but when a professor came out of the maze with a student, it wasn't Fleur, but Krum. Her brow furrowed in confusion. What was happening in there?

For a long time, they waited. Genevieve had no clue how much; she was far too fidgety to even hazard a glance at the watch on her wrist. All they could do was speculate what was happening, what creatures were in there, who was winning.

Finally, Harry materialized, holding the Triwizard Cup, but something was . . . wrong. Something was very wrong. Harry was on the ground, hurt from the looks of it, and he was clutching tightly to something . . . _someone_ , Genevieve realized.

Harry was clinging to Cedric Diggory. And Cedric Diggory was lying beside him, dead. Dumbledore and Fudge, who had replaced Percy as judge after the Crouch scandal, rushed up to him at lightning speed. Others were surrounding him too.

Voices reverberated into the night. "He's dead!" "He's _dead_!" "Cedric Diggory! _Dead!"_

Genevieve was frozen in shock. She didn't know how long she was there, unable to move. Then she was vaguely aware of the fact that she was being tugged along. The Weasleys and Hermione were all moving to the hospital wing, where they would likely find Harry. Hermione, looking equally stunned, was walking beside her.

After a long wait in the hospital wing, during which they had all crowded around Madam Pomfrey, interrogating her on the whereabouts and well-being of Harry, Dumbledore opened the door to the hospital wing, followed by Harry and a dog Genevieve knew to be Sirius.

Mrs. Weasley, barely keeping herself together, full out ran towards him, but Dumbledore blocked her.

"Molly," he said gently but firmly, "please listen to me for a moment. Harry has been through a terrible ordeal tonight. He has just had to relive it for me. What he needs now is sleep, and peace, and quiet." He addressed the rest of the group. "If he would like you all to stay with him, you may do so. But I do not want you questioning him until he is ready to answer, and certainly not this evening."

Mrs. Weasley took the chance to berate them all for a crime not yet committed. "Did you hear? He needs quiet!"

"Headmaster," Madame Pomfrey started, looking wth disdain at Sirius, "may I ask what — "

"This dog will be remaining with Harry for a while," Dumbledore informed her. "I assure you, he is extremely well trained. Harry — I will wait while you get into bed."

Harry looked thankful at the order not to be questioned. Dumbledore went on.

"I will be back to see you as soon as I have met with Fudge, Harry. I would like you to remain here tomorrow until I have spoken to the school."

And with that, Dumbledore glided out of the room. Madam Pomfrey directed Harry to a bed, pulling screens around him as she provided him with pajamas.

Once he was finished, the group surrounded him, each taking a seat near his bed. Genevieve looked over him. His eyes were drooping, but he was still trembling a bit.

"I'm all right," Harry assured them. "Just tired."

Trying to calm herself, Mrs. Weasley busied herself smoothing his covers.

Madam Pomfrey returned. "You'll need to drink all of this, Harry. It's a potion for dreamless sleep."

Harry took a bit of the potion and promptly passed out.

•~0~•

Genevieve sat tensely, listening to the voices around her, two getting louder by the second.

"They'll wake him if they don't shut up!" Mrs. Weasley said in a hushed voice.

"What are they talking about?" Bill asked, equally quietly. "Nothing else could have happened, can it?"

"That's Fudge's voice. And that's Minerva McGonagall's, isn't it? But what are they arguing about?"

Just then, Fudge's voice boomed. "Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva — "

"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" McGonagall said, giving Fudge the harsh reprimanding tone Genevieve had always feared.

The doors slammed open. Fudge, McGonagall, and Snape entered.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge asked Mrs. Weasley rather harshly.

"He's not here," Mrs. Weasley replied, infuriated they were bothering Harry. "This is a hospital wing, Minister, don't you think you'd do better to — "

Dumbledore joined the party.

"What has happened?" he asked, with none of his characteristic twinkle or calm nature. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you — I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch — "

"There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" McGonagall retorted shrilly. "The Minister has seen to that!"

McGonagall looked angrier than Genevieve had ever seen, red in the face and shaking.

Snape elaborated. "When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Desth Eater responsible for tonight's events, he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch - "

"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" McGonagall interrupted, seething. "I told him you would never allow dementors to step foot inside the castle, but - "

"My dear woman!" exclaimed Fudge loudly, "as Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether I wish to bring protection with me when interviewing a possibly dangerous - "

McGonagall carried on speaking as though she hadn't heard him, practically screaming by now. "The moment that - that thing entered the room, it swooped down on Crouch and - and - "

Genevieve understood. The dementor had sentenced Crouch to a fate worse than death. Crouch was no more; his soul had been sucked out by the dementor's kiss. He was alive, but worse than dead.

"By all accounts, he is no loss!" Fudge claimed. "It seems he has been responsible for several deaths!"

Dumbledore was almost glaring at Fudge. "But he cannot now give testimony, Cornelius. He cannot give evidence about why he killed those people."

"Why he killed them?" raged Fudge. "Well, that's no mystery, is it? He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to have thought he was doing it all on You-Know-Who's instructions!"

"Lord Voldemort _was_ giving him instructions, Cornelius. Those people's deaths were mere by-products of a plan to restore Voldemort to full strength again. The plan succeeded. Voldemort has been restored to his body."

Fudge looked personally offended. For a second, he simply stared at Dumbledore.

"You-Know-Who . . . returned? Preposterous. Come now, Dumbledore . . ."

"As Minerva and Severus have doubtless told you, we heard Barty Crouch confess. Under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how he was smuggle out of Azkaban, and how Voldemort — learning of his continued existence from Bertha Jorkins — went to free him from his father and used to capture Harry. The plan worked, I tell you. Crouch has helped Voldemort to return."

Fudge gave a disbelieving smile. "See here, Dumbledore, you — you can't seriously believe that. You-Know-Who — back? Come now, come now . . . certainly, Crouch may have _believed_ himself to be acting upon You-Know-Who's orders — but to take the word of a lunatic like that, Dumbledore . . ."

Dumbledore replied with an evenness Genevieve would have been unable to muster, given the situation. "When Harry touched the Triwizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort. He witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you step up to my office. I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight."

Fudge's smile almost widened. "You are - er - prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"

Sirius growled. Genevieve knew why. Fudge had believed Skeeter's rubbish about him being insane. She glared at him.

"Certainly, I believe Harry," Dumbledore looked slightly angry now. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."

"You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who . . . well . . ."

"You've been reading Rita Skeeter, Mr. Fudge," Harry said softly.

Genevieve jumped in surprise. She hadn't noticed Harry was awake.

"And if I have? If I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh? And having funny turns all over the place — "

Genevieve balled up her fists, eyes narrowing. Dumbledore's response was cold.

"I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?"

"You admit that he has been having these pains, then? Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly — hallucinations?"

"Listen to me, Cornelius," Dumbledore said with a conviction and power Genevieve had never seen before. "Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous."

"You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before . . ."

Harry was struggling against Mrs. Weasley to get out of bed. "Look, I saw Voldemort come back!" he insisted loudly. "I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy — "

"Malfoy was cleared!" Fudge argued. "A very old family — donations to excellent causes — "

"Macnair!"

"Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!"

"Avery — Nott — Crabbe — Goyle — "

"You or merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!" Fudge said furiously. "You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heaven's sake, Dumbledore — the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too — his tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them —the boy can talk to snakes, Dumbledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?"

"You fool!" McGonagall said. "Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary!" roared Fudge. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!"

Genevieve couldn't speak; she was so angry. Red flashed in her eyes as she shook her head at Fudge. How could he be so blind?

"Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore said once again. "If you accept that fact straightaway, Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors — "

"Preposterous!" repeated Fudge like a broken record. "Remove the dementors? I'd be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!"

"The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord Voldemort's most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them! They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can! With the dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago!"

Fudge was so appalled he was rendered unable to speak. Dumbledore continued.

"The second step you must take — and at once is the send envoys to the giants."

"Envoys to the giants?" Fudge balked. "What madness is this?"

"Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late, or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards can give them their rights and their freedom!"

"You — you cannot be serious!" Fudge backed away from Dumbledore as though he were dangerous. "If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants — people hate them, Dumbledore — end of my career — "

"You are blinded by the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure-blood family as old as any — and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now — take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in our office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act — and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!"

"Insane," Fudge muttered, still retreating. "Mad . . ."

Genevieve didn't know this time if she was frozen in anger or shock. No one had ever, to his face, insulted Dumbledore in this way at his own school.

"If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, "we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit. And I — I shall act as I see fit."

Fudge clearly thought Dumbledore was threatening him. He shook a finger at the man.

"Now, see here, Dumbledore. I've given you free rein, always. I've had a lot of respect for you. I might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I've kept quiet. There aren't many who'd have let you hire werewolves, or keep Hagrid, or decide what to teach your students without reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me — "

"The only one against whom I intend to work is Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore said quite plainly. "If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side."

Fudge's answer was more of a beg than an argument. "He can't be back, Dumbledore, he just can't be . . ."

Snape walked up to Fudge and, without hesitation, showed him his left forearm. Fudge flinched and shrank back.

"There. There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eaters to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

Fudge just stepped back again, his head shaking. His response was almost inaudible. "I don't know what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I have heard enough. I will be in touch with you tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss the running of his school. I must return to the Ministry."

He turned to go. Genevieve was still glowering at him from her seat, not trusting herself to stand up. He deposited a bag on Harry's bedside table. "Your winnings. One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances . . ."

He simply stuffed the bowler hat back on his head and strode our of the room, letting the door bang shut behind him.

Dumbledore turned back to the group.

"There is still work to be done. Molly . . . am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?"

"Of course you can," she replied, unusually pale, but determined. "We know what Fudge is. It's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride."

"Then I need to send a message to Arthur. All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as shortsighted as Cornelius."

"I'll go to Dad," Bill offered. "I'll go now."

"Excellent. Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry — "

"Leave it to me," Bill gave Genevieve a small smile, patted Harry's shoulder comfortingly, kissed his mother's cheek, and pulled on his cloak as he left the room.

"Minerva. I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also — if she will consent to come — Madame Maxime."

"Poppy," Dumbledore pressed on, turning to Madam Pomfrey, "would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moody's office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us." McGonagall left.

"Very — very well," Madam Pomfrey agreed, though slightly surprised. She also left.

"And now, it is time for two of our number to recognize each other for what they are. Sirius . . . if you could resume your usual form."

The black dog transformed into Sirius. Mrs. Weasley shrieked in fright, screeching, "Sirius Black!"

"Mum, shut up!" Ron shouted, trying to calm her. "It's okay!"

Snape's face had contorted to show pure loathing. Sirius' face revealed the same.

"Him! What is he doing here?"

"He is here at my invitation," Dumbledore said, "as are you, Severus. I trust you both. It is time for you to lay aside your old differences and trust each other. I will settle, in the short term, for a lack of open hostility. You will shake hands. You are on the same side now. Time is short, and unless the few of us who know the truth do not stand united, there is no hope for any of us."

The two exchanged the shortest handshake Genevieve thought possible.

"That will do to be going on with. Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher — the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there."

"But — " Harry protested.

"You'll see me very soon, Harry," Sirius assured. "I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?"

"Yeah," Harry said unconvincingly. "Yeah . . . of course I do."

"Severus, you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . ."

"I am," Snape said, blanching slightly.

"Then good luck."

Snape followed Sirius out of the room. Then, to Genevieve's shock, Dumbledore turned to her.

"Miss Snow," he said calmly. "Your mother was part of the original Order, as I'm sure your father has told you." She nodded. "I would like you to owl him tomorrow morning, informing him of what has happened, and asking him to join. If he replies in the affirmative, tell him to expect a letter from me."

Genevieve nodded again.

"I must go downstairs. I must see the Diggorys. Harry — take the rest of your potion. I will see all of you later."

After Dumbledore left, they sat in silence for a while, before Mrs. Weasley told Harry to take his potion, and then something caught Genevieve's eye.

She moved closer to the window. Yes, yes, it was her. Genevieve motioned for Hermione to follow her. They approached the window cautiously, without making a sound. Genevieve conjured a jar, handing it to Hermione, who, in a burst of sudden movement, swept the beetle into it and slammed the jar shut. They smiled at each other as the rest of the room looked over in shock.

"Sorry," they whispered together.

•~0~•

The next morning, at dawn, Genevieve slipped out to the Owlery, borrowing a school owl and sending it on its way to her father. Unable to sleep, she'd written the letter the night before. She already knew what her father's answer would be, and wondered how it would affect them.

At breakfast, Dumbledore gave a speech asking the school not to bother Harry. The next few days passed in a blur. Genevieve vaguely remembered visiting Hagrid, who informed her that he would also have a mission over the summer, but not to worry about him, and that Madame Maxime might go with him.

The Leaving Feast was not festive, as it usually was. The Great Hall was not decked out in the colors of the House who had won the House Cup. Instead, the drapes were black in remembrance of Cedric.

At the staff table, the real Moody sat, twitching nervously, and Hagrid and Madame Maxime we're conversing quietly. Dumbledore stood up.

"The end of another year. There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here," Dumbledore motioned to the Hufflepuff table, which was uncharacteristically quiet, "enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

Without hesitation, Genevieve stood and toasted Diggory, whom she had never truly known, whom she had never spoken a full sentence to, though everything Harry had told her and everything she'd seen herself told her that he was a good person, the type who didn't deserve to be murdered.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house. He was a good and loyal friend, A hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about."

Genevieve steeled herself for the blunt truth.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort. The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so — either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

Genevieve didn't dare take her eyes off Dumbledore.

"There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death. I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter. Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him."

Dumbledore raised his goblet at Harry, as did most of the Great Hall, with the exception of the majority of Slytherin house.

"The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened — of Lord Voldemort's return — such ties are more important than ever before."

He looked at every group of students.

"Every guest in this Hall will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again — in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

"It is my belief — and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken — that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.

"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come where you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."


	14. Chapter 14: Sweet, Sweet Revenge

**A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.**

•~0~•

Genevieve, Fred, George, Katie, and Lee sat in their compartment, where the twins informed them all of what had happened with Bagman and how it had ended. Genevieve had been so caught up in the aftermath of the third task that even she had had no clue as to what had happened at the end.

Just as she opened her mouth to respond, however, she saw Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle slinking past their compartment, doubtless on the way to Harry, Hermione, and Ron's.

Fred, George, and Genevieve looked at each other.

"See you before I head home," Genevieve said to Katie and Lee. They nodded.

As they made their way to the others, they heard a voice of cackling glee say, "Too late now, Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well — second — Diggory was the f — "

Seething with fury, Genevieve took advantage of her year's worth of education on nonverbal spells, withdrawing her wand before she knew what she was doing and casting the first hex that came to mind. She looked down and smirked.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle lay in the doorway of the compartment, unconscious and rather uglier than usual. She wasn't the only one to have hexed them either; Fred, George, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were also looking down at them, wands out.

"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," Fred stated simply as he stepped over an unconscious Goyle and into the compartment.

George and Genevieve followed. Genevieve made sure to wipe her shoes on Malfoy's robes.

"Interesting effect," George commented. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"

"Me," Harry admitted, sounding rather proud.

"Odd," George noticed with amusement. "I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor."

Genevieve watched happily as Harry, Ron, and George used none-too-gentle methods of getting the three into the corridor. She smiled at the sight of Malfoy's nose, yellow pus still oozing out of it.

When the others returned, Fred took out a pack of cards. "Exploding Snap, anyone?"

Five and a half games later, Harry asked, "You going to tell us, then? Who you were blackmailing?"

"Oh," George responded. _"That."_

"It doesn't matter," Fred said, trying to brush the topic aside. "It wasn't anything important. Not now, anyway."

"We've given up."

The three fourth years persisted, and finally, the twins explained what had happened. Bagman paying their bet back in leprechaun gold, never getting it back, the goblins, and the bet.

"Well — I did win, didn't I?" Harry said. "So he can pay you back your gold!"

"Nope," George said. "The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task."

He sighed. They continued their game.

When the train arrived at the King's Cross station, Genevieve, Ron, and Hermione managed to get off the train with their luggage, though it was a bit of a chore, what with Malfoy and his goons still unconscious and lying rather rudely in the middle of the corridor.

Hermione stopped and looked around. "Where're Fred, George, and Harry?"

Genevieve shrugged. "Dunno. Hey, Hermione," she said, getting a glint in her eye.

"Yes . . ." Hermione said suspiciously.

"About to let Skeeter out, are you, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I've grown rather attached to her in bug form. Could I see her for a second — say goodbye?"

"Sure," Hermione said easily as Ron watched with curiosity.

Genevieve took the jar and shook it rather violently, up and down and up and down and up and down, causing Skeeter to collide painfully with the jar's sides over and over. As she continued to jolt back and forth, gradually picking up speed as Genevieve shook faster and more violently, Genevieve said, "This is for Hagrid, and Harry, and Hermione, and Mr. Weasley, and the bubotuber pus, and _this_ ," she gave the jar one last, forceful jerk, "is for all the lovesick girls clinging to me."

She handed the jar back to a horrified but slightly satisfied Hermione, who simply held it in her hand, Skeeter buzzing angrily.

"Just think about that next time you pick up a quill," Genevieve said smoothly.

Ron was staring at her in awe. Hermione shook her head, smiling.

Genevieve sighed. "I'm not nearly so good as you, Hermione, and thank Merlin for it. That felt _amazing_. And I did tell you I'd get revenge for the undiluted bubotuber pus," she added.

With last hugs from Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fred, George, Katie, Lee, and Mrs. Weasley, Genevieve Disapparated home, having passed the test several weeks before. She had told her father in the letter not to pick her up.

When she entered the parlor, her father was sitting at the table, white, clutching the Order letter. He looked at her.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked her. "This is going to mean a lot for us."

She nodded. "You didn't see it, Dad. Cedric, and Harry . . ." she trailed off.

He nodded grimly. "Get ready," he said. "Everything is about to change."

And Genevieve had absolutely no doubt in her mind that he was right.


End file.
